


Secrets and Other Monsters

by Moonflower (IpomoeaAlba)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Regulus Black Lives, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IpomoeaAlba/pseuds/Moonflower
Summary: When Regulus survives his effort to switch the horcrux!locket with the fake, his life starts down a very different path than he imagined possible. Meanwhile, Remus returns from an Order mission to find that his relationship with Sirius is even more confused than he previously thought.(I saw a post on tumblr a while back wondering what if Regulus became the Potions Master instead of Snape. So that's the eventuality of this fic. But, until then, it's also a wolfstar get-together fic. I'm thinking that certain chunks of it will be Remus-centered, and others will be Regulus-centered.)





	1. A Turn of Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Welcome to my first-ever HP fic. 
> 
> We begin with Regulus Black falling out of the sky to deliver a very important item to Dumbledore.

A loud crack resounded throughout the Headmaster’s office in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus Dumbledore flinched. Fawkes, the Phoenix, squawked and bristled. Portraits around the room opened their eyes in surprise. One portrait in particular had gone ghostly pale.

“Regulus?” Phineas Nigellus whispered, pushing his hands against the canvas as if it was a window pane, and he might be able to get a better look at the shivering, drenched body on the floor in the center of the office. He was wrapped in a heavy black cloak, which had fallen away from his head to reveal a face drawn in pain. A house elf crouched at the boy’s side, muttering nonsensically. He dragged the boy onto his back, and Regulus coughed and clutched his stomach.

_____

“We suspect there’s a spy in the Order,” Dumbledore said. Regulus’s eyes struggled to focus on the figure next to his bed. Half-moon glasses, blue eyes, purple pointed hat. “Do you know who it is?” Dumbledore continued.

Regulus groaned. “Why are you asking me that?” He couldn’t tell where he was. It was a small, unfamiliar room, furnished with a bed, two arm chairs, a small side table, and a window covered with gauzy curtains. Pale dawn light filtered into the room. Kreacher was curled up in a large arm chair in the far corner of the room, and Dumbledore lounged in other at Regulus’s bedside.

“Why did you arrive in my office?” Dumbledore countered. “I don’t believe Kreacher decided to bring you here on his own.”

Regulus’s eyes flickered again toward Kreacher; he seemed to be asleep.

“It did occur to me that you might be here to spy on us, of course,” Dumbledore said. “But, if that’s the case, Lord Voldemort has taken quite a big risk to earn my trust -- sending you here with that locket.” He stroked his fingers through the length of his beard and peered thoughtfully at Regulus. “You look, as some muggles might say, as though you’ve been through Hell and back.”

“What are you doing? Planning to nurse me back to health and then ship me off to Azkaban? If I’m healthy, I might not die immediately.”

“No, no, my dear boy, no Azkaban for you.”

“I would deserve it.” Regulus closed his eyes and released a long sigh.

“Surely not.”

“I didn’t plan on making it through that alive.”

“Surely not,” Dumbledore agreed.  

“Are you going to kill me?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Do you know what it is that you have brought me, my boy?”

Regulus met Dumbledore’s eyes, finally, and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Then, his stomach churned, and he leaned over the side of the bed to heave the (albeit few) contents of his stomach on Dumbledore’s feet.

Dumbledore vanished the vomit and stood. “I’ll send for a healer now, and then we can talk some more, what do you think?”

Regulus wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and flinched when he realized that would’ve earned him a slap on the cheek if his mother had seen. He glanced up at Dumbledore, who was using his wand to pour some water into a glass. “Here you are; I expect some water should help.” And Dumbledore left the room.

Regulus could not drink the water. He remembered the thirst that had followed when he had drunk the potion in the basin in the cave, the thirst that drove him to that black water full of inferi, to his probable death.

Kreacher coughed in his sleep.

Regulus wasn’t sure if his continued survival was a miracle or a curse.

________

“Regulus Black?” A woman’s voice. A familiar voice, Regulus thought, but too high and strained. Outside the door to his room. “Who else knows he’s here?”

Regulus wondered if he should pretend to be asleep. Kreacher was no longer in the corner armchair. Perhaps he had gone back to Grimmauld Place. A stray thought flickered through Regulus’s consciousness -- could he have died?

“Just the two of us, for now,” Dumbledore said. “I thought we could build a small circle of trust.”

“You trust him?”

“He took a great risk to bring me--,” he paused, “a very important object.”

“How delightfully vague.”

“Yes, well, you can see how dangerous it might be if anyone knows he’s here, or what he’s done.”

“How do you know someone doesn’t know already? How do you know it’s not a trap?”

“Voldemort would not have taken this great of a risk.”

There was a long pause.

“I didn’t make a mistake in trusting you with this, did I, Ms. McKinnon?” Dumbledore asked.

“I can keep a secret.”

Marlene. Regulus imagined her, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, scowling at Dumbledore. Or maybe a hand on her hip.

“It was my understanding that you and Mr. Black had somewhat of a friendship. That you, if anyone, might be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Another long pause. Regulus wondered if Marlene might reject this interpretation of events.  

“Alright, let me see him.”

Regulus took as deep of a breath as he could, but his chest ached with the effort. He wondered how bad he looked. He ran a hand through his hair; it was tangled and greasy. There was a deep, purple and green bruise around his wrist, where Kreacher had grabbed him to pull him from the lake and apparate him here. Regulus guessed it wasn’t his only bruise. His face was covered in stubble, two or three days worth, by the feel of it. His mouth tasted like vomit. He supposed his breath must smell like it, too.

When the door opened and McKinnon followed Dumbledore inside, Regulus was wondering if he was even recognizable to her. She glared at him, her curly purple hair done up in a ponytail high on her head, arms crossed across her chest. She wore sea green scrubs that contrasted with her hair in a way that made her look like a storybook character -- an angry storybook character.

“Well if it isn’t the younger Mister Black,” she said. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“McKinnon.” His voice croaked.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve invited someone into our circle, Mr. Black. I thought it would be best for you to receive a checkup from someone a bit more practiced in healing than I,” Dumbledore said. As if Marlene, healer-in-training, had more experience at healing spells than the great Albus Dumbledore. 

“What happened to Kreacher?” Regulus asked as Dumbledore turned to leave. Marlene summoned a stool from thin air, and perched on it near Regulus’s bed. She moved her wand over his body and slow, careful movements.

“I’ve asked some of the Hogwarts house elves to look after him. I can summon them up later, if you wish.”

“He woke up?”

“Yes, he seems to be in perfectly good health. Better than you, I should say.”

“My mother will notice he’s gone.” Regulus began feeling a bit queasy again. He imagined it would win him no points with Marlene if he barfed on her shoes.

Dumbledore considered this. “When was Kreacher last home?”

“As long as I’ve been here.”

“Will anyone miss you?”

Marlene paused her wand movements.

“My mother will think I’m with... _them_ ,” Regulus couldn’t bring himself to name the Death Eaters in present company, to associate himself with them. “They will think I’m caring for my mother. She’s ill.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Is Kreacher faithful to you? Can we trust him to return to your mother’s house without disclosing your whereabouts?”

“He won’t tell. I’ve told him to never speak about-- about what we did.”

“Very well. I’ll invite him up here to say goodbye when Ms. McKinnon is finished,” Dumbledore said. “Ms. McKinnon, please stop by my office before you leave.”

Marlene nodded at him, and Dumbledore left the room.

Marlene and Regulus looked at each other, neither saying a word.

“I’ve never seen you speechless before, McKinnon,” Regulus said, he rather liked the feel of her name on his tongue.

“I actually have quite a lot of things I’d like to say. I just don’t know where to start.” Marlene placed warm fingers on the bruise on his wrist. “It’s not broken, which is a miracle really. I have some bruise balm you could use; should clear up before too long. I wish Dumbledore would’ve gotten someone here sooner; you’re in bad shape.”

“How long have I been here? Did he tell you?”

“Two nights and one day, I think.” She let go of his wrist and eyed him warily. “How do I know this isn’t a grand scheme to kill us all. You seem to have convinced Dumbledore, but how can I _know_?”

Regulus didn’t know how to answer. There wasn’t much he could say. He thought about the locket, and again, fought the urge to vomit. He wretched and coughed and leaned forward, covering his mouth with his hands. He felt a tentative hand on his back.

“What was the first potion we made together in Sluggie’s class?” McKinnon asked.

“Hell if I know.”

“Come on, I’m trying to ask you a security question -- you know, to be sure it’s really you.”

“Maybe you should be more worried that it _is_ really me. I mean, what’s worse than an unannounced Death Eater, huh?”

“An unannounced Death Eater posing as my ex-boyfriend.”

“We never dated.”

“Fine, my ex-lover.”

Regulus scoffed -- he couldn’t help it -- and ended up coughing up another mouthful of phlegm. Marlene patted him on his back. When he had regained his breath, he said, “We never had sex.”

“Did all that snogging in the empty classrooms mean nothing to you, Black?” When Regulus looked up, she was smiling at him -- a small, hesitant smile, but a smile, nonetheless.

“Alright -- where was our first kiss, then?” Regulus asked.

“Behind the Quidditch clubhouse, 6th year. You had just beat Ravenclaw, by a hair, and I had come to congratulate you.”

“That checks out.”

“Where was our last kiss?” Marlene asked.

“Seventh year, after the Potions N.E.W.T., in the supply cabinet. You were leaving the next day to go to Healer training.”

“And you were leaving to join a killing club.”

Truer words never spoken, Regulus knew. He remembered meeting the Dark Lord in his father’s study, Bellatrix there to welcome him into the fold. He, the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, would gain his rightful place of power, with the support of the Dark Lord. He would make his family proud. He remembered his first duel on behalf of the movement, knowing he killed someone -- a muggle, named Jacob Greer, who had come out to see what the fuss was about.

“‘Course I didn’t know that at the time. I thought you were going to make the right choice. You _told_ me, Reg, that you weren’t going to do it.” Marlene’s voice broke. She sat back on her stool and crossed her arms. “And now you’re here, half dead, and what? What do you want?”

Half-dead. He had planned on being fully dead. He hadn’t planned this far. He thought of the cold, heavy weight of the locket; the sharp hands of the inferi on his legs, pulling him down into the dark water. This time, his stomach did manage to produce some bile, which he threw up onto the blankets in front of him. He deserved it.

Marlene let it linger for a few moments before vanishing it.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve eaten much. Or have you not been able to hold it down?”

“Both,” Regulus said.

“I’ll ask Dumbledore to get you some crackers, and I’ll make you a potion for the nausea. Probably shouldn’t eat much more until you can manage that.”

“Not hungry.”

“Just wait ‘til we get you healed up. You’ll be ravenous.” She put his hand on his shoulder. “Reg, I want you to know that I’m fucking angry at you. Like, livid.” He cringed. “And I don’t trust you because I heard you got in real fucking deep.”

“I don’t blame you.” He looked at his hands, folded in his lap.

She squeezed his shoulder gently. “But something real bad happened to you. And I’m sorry about that. And I hope it was fucking heroic, because you’re gonna need to earn a shit ton of points to come back from the awful things you’ve done.” She let go of his shoulder then, and Regulus realized he’d been holding himself very tense. When he relaxed his muscles, he felt like all his bones might just scatter, like an anatomical skeleton dropped on the ground.

“You’re not allowed to die,” Marlene said. “Not now, when it’s my reputation on the line.”

“No one will ever know you were here; you don’t have to worry about your reputation.”

“Dumbledore would know. Besides you’re not allowed to die, not ever.”

“You sound like a child.”

“You _always_ sound like a superior snob.”

“Yes, well, I recently realized I don’t want to be immortal.”

“Not wanting to be immortal is not the same thing as having a death wish. I don’t want you to have a death wish.”

“Maybe that’s why I joined up in the first place,” Regulus said. He supposed he was being a bit contradictory, but contradictory was about as honest as he could possibly be. 

Marlene stood up, knocking the stool over in her haste, and left the room.  


	2. Christmas Eve at the Potters'

Remus Lupin stood outside the door to the Potters’ home on Christmas Eve, clutching a small bag of gifts. He hadn’t seen his friends since early September, when Remus had a small break in between his assignments for the Order. Now, he felt a strange tightness in his chest. He knew he was invited; he knew, logically, that he was wanted. But they weren’t expecting him. He hadn’t responded to Lily’s, James’s, or Sirius’s letters, because he didn’t know, at the time, if he would be able to get away. He was putting them in danger by showing up, anyway. It’s possible he was being followed. And so, in addition to his anxiety, he felt guilty for letting his judgement slip and turning up at the Potters’ cottage tonight, with his meager gifts as offerings.

He should, perhaps, turn around and leave now. There would be a room available at the Leaky Cauldron, and he knew Tom, the barman, would be discreet. Or, he could return to the pack. At this point, they might not realize he’d ever left.

He imagined his friends on the other side of this door, and his gut leapt into his throat. He wondered what they were doing, what they would say to him if he knocked. If he decided to stay. He imagined James and Peter playing chess by the fire. Perhaps Lily would be setting the table for dinner, or drinking warm cider and playing with baby Harry. Was Harry old enough to play? Remus wasn’t entirely sure what a five-month-old baby did. And there was Sirius, likely to be a glass of wine deep, laughing at his friends. What would he do when Remus walked in? Hug him? Slap him? Ignore him? It was a toss-up.

Remus had memorized the last letter Sirius had sent him before he burned it. He was grateful it had reached him on a solitary walk through the woods, instead of at the pack’s campsite. He would’ve had to burn it without reading it, in that case. Remus made a mental note to tell Dumbledore to do a better job at intercepting his letters. Really, what he ought to do is tell his friends to stop writing. But he couldn’t bear to do that.

_Moony,_

_Come to Christmas at Prongs’s. We’re placing bets on whether or not you’re dead._

_For the record, I hope you’re alive._

_Padfoot_

Remus wondered if they really had placed these bets, and if so, who had bet on what outcome.

Footsteps crunched on the snow leading up to the Potters’ walk. Instinctively, Remus flexed his fingers around his wand in his pocket. The cloaked figure drew their wand, and called out “Who’s there?”

Remus coughed. “Lupin.”

The figure stopped at the foot of the stairs and tipped their hood back; snowflakes began dusting a head of lilac hair, and he recognized Marlene, her face drawn in a grimace. She didn’t lower her wand.

“What book did I purchase when we went to Flourish & Blotts together this summer?”

Remus knew these questions were important, but he still hated them. His brain immediately went into panic mode, and feared whatever might happen if he couldn’t recall whatever minute detail was required of him. He racked his brain, and then it occurred to him -- “Oh, you bought me a gift -- _Catching Curses Before They Catch You_.”

Marlene’s body relaxed and she stowed her wand. “Go on -- ask me something.”

“What’s my deepest secret?”

Marlene smirked. “You’ve only got about a million. Shall I list them?”

“Tell me the secret that only you know,” Remus amended.

“Are you talking about your snog-fest with Mason Petefish?” she asked. “That you -- to this day -- refuse to tell your best friends about?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Alright then. All clear.” Marlene hopped up to join him on the step. “How long have you been standing out here, Remus?”

“Not long.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Are they really taking bets on whether I’ve died?”

“Yes, but those who bet you were dead will still be happy to see you.” She rapped on the door, and Remus flinched, wishing he could’ve had another moment of mental preparation.

“What did you bet?”

“That you’re alive.” Remus could hear feet approaching the door. Marlene sighed. “We’ve all got our secrets in this war, you know. No one should begrudge you for staying away.”

The door flung open, and Remus was face to face with James. Remus barely had time to register the look of shock on James’s face -- eyes wide and mouth agape -- before James yelled “Stupify!” and Remus crumpled on his doorstep.

___

Remus groaned as he came to; he was cold, his head throbbed and his mouth felt strangely dry.

He blinked a few times, and Lily’s face came into focus in front of him. “James Potter is an absolute idiot.”

“I panicked!” James was behind her, running his hand through his hair. “I thought he was dead!”

“I knew we should never have taken that bet,” Lily said. “It’s not funny in times like this.”

“It’s a coping mechanism, love, we were preparing ourselves.”

“Shush, let him get his bearings. You gave him a fright.” Marlene now, she peered over his face from behind him, her purple ponytail swinging like a pendulum.

“You look like a unicorn,” Remus mumbled.

“Is that a come on, Lupin?”

He swatted at her ponytail and she laughed, coming around in front of him to help him into a sitting position.

He rubbed the back of his head and looked around the room. They had apparently drug him inside and laid him on the living room rug.

“I put the hot water on for tea,” Lily said, taking one of his hands in hers and rubbing some heat into it.

“It’s not like he’s never been stunned before.” This came from Peter, perched on the edge of the sofa. “You’ll be alright, wontcha Moony?”

Lily glared at him over her shoulder. “You and James both, so inconsiderate.”

“You gave me a shock, Moons,” James said. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t exactly let you know I was coming.”

“We’re so glad you’re here, we really are. It’s a Christmas miracle,” Lily said and kissed him on the forehead. “Let me get you that tea. Don’t you have any gloves? Your hands are freezing.” Marlene followed her into the kitchen.

Peter cleared his throat. “James and I were just playing chess.”

“Pete’s about to beat my arse,” James said with a hesitant smile. “Wanna watch? You can hold Harry, if you want.”

“Yeah, alright.”

James picked up Harry from where he lay on an old quilt, banging a raddle about happily. Remus pulled himself into an armchair and James handed the baby to him. Harry seemed content to sit on Remus’s lap and continue laughing and banging the raddle. He smelled soft and seemed so fragile, at least until he banged the raddle on Remus’s nose.

“Sorry mate,” James said with a grin. “He’s really got an arm when he gets going.” Instead of watching the game, Remus was distracted by James and Lily’s house. It smelled like them, comforting, and homey. There was a tree set up in the corner, dressed with a mishmash of uncoordinated ornaments. The angel on top of the tree smiled and waved at the room. There were stockings hanging on the mantle, one each for James, Lily, Harry, Sirius, Peter, and he noticed, with a jolt to his heart, one for himself, as well. Everything was the same, yet different. Last year, they had celebrated at James’s parents house, but they had since died. Now, there were vestiges of old traditions, but everything

Lily and Marlene came back with tea and crackers. “Dorcas will be here any minute now,” Marlene was saying, “She ought to be leaving work at 7.” She picked up Harry and nuzzled his cheek against hers before settling on the sofa. “Sorry to steal him away from you, Rem, but I just can’t help it. Have you seen this cute face?”

Lily handed him a cup of tea and perched on the arm of his chair, resting a hand at the nape of his neck. Remus wondered where Sirius was. There were signs of him everywhere, unmistakable signs. His record collection was on the shelves, and he was included in nearly every photograph displayed in the house -- was he living here, proper? A leather jacket, which must be his, hung on the coat rack near the front door. Surely he hadn’t invited Remus here and then made other plans himself. But then again, Lily and James had both sent owls inviting Remus as well.

“When’s dinner, Lily?” Peter asked. “I’m hungry.”

“When everyone’s here.”

“If this was an alternate universe and we had that rule, we’d have been waiting for Moony forever.”

“You’re just salty because you lost the bet,” Marlene said.

“If you can still beat me at chess, you’re not yet hungry enough,” James said as Peter took his bishop.

“How’ve you been, Remus?” Lily asked him lowering her voice as James and Peter went back to their game.

Remus considered this. He knew his clothes were more threadbare than ever. He’d been bathing in ponds and streams for months. Food was becoming ever more scarce for the pack. He figured Lily wouldn’t believe him if he said all was fine and dandy.

“Surviving, I s’pose,” he answered finally.

“Will you stay a while, please?”

“I don’t know.”

“For as long as you can, then? We have plenty of room.”

“As long as I can, sure.” Remus honestly didn’t know how long that would be. He hadn’t worked out how long he could reasonably stay away from the pack without needing to earn their trust again when he returned. Werewolves didn’t like people who had too much to do with society; Remus had only just convinced them that he understood their plight.

____

An hour later, Dorcas had arrived and opened up a bottle of wine, Peter had beat James in another round of chess, and Lily, Marlene and Remus sat on the floor around Harry, chatting and playing with the baby.

Remus could tell that James was getting jumpy. It seemed they were waiting on Sirius, though they hadn’t spoke the words aloud. Remus’s suspicions were confirmed when Dorcas arrived and no one made any moves to gather for dinner.

“I’ve got to get back to my mum,” Peter said, rubbing his stomach and eyeing the kitchen. “She’ll have my head if I’m not there for evening pressies.”

“I’ll make you a plate to take with you,” Lily said. “Sorry we had to wait so long.”

“‘S okay,” Peter said. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

James smiled at him, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “‘Course we would.”

Marlene refilled her glass of wine.

Remus dug a small package out of his shopping bag and handed it to Peter as the group clustered around the door to wish him goodbye.

“It’s not much, but…”

“Thanks, mate. Sorry I don’t have anything for you, well, because I thought you were dead.” He clapped Remus on his shoulder.

“Classy as ever, Pete,” James said. Peter just shrugged.  
___

Another hour passed. Lily put Harry to bed. Marlene had drunk an entire bottle of wine herself, with occasional help from Remus and James. Dorcas put on a record and pulled Remus up to dance with her.

Marlene broke first. “I hate secrets. Why does everything have to be a secret?” Her words slurred together a bit, and she started crying. Dorcas and Remus stopped dancing. James wrung his hands. Lily sat down on the couch next to Marlene and pulled her in close, running fingers through her hair.

“I know, love,” she murmured.

“I hate it, I just hate it,” Marlene repeated, over and over again, as if she couldn’t stop.

Without asking permission, Dorcas went into the kitchen and poured them each a bowl of soup. “Let’s just have a snack while we wait, shall we?”

James nodded and went into the kitchen himself, bringing back a loaf of bread and a block of cheese.

“The soup is delicious, Lily,” James said.

Lily just nodded.

“I have to go home, I have to go,” Marlene said. Her breath was still ragged, but she had eaten half her bowl of soup, and Remus thought that was impressive. He had become suddenly very not hungry when he thought of the time, how long they had been waiting, and all the words everyone seemed to be carefully not saying.

“I’ll take you,” Dorcas said. And when they were gone, it was just James, Lily, and Remus, and a very large hole the size of Sirius left in the house.  
_____

Lily fell asleep on the couch, her head on James’s lap and her feet on Remus. James stroked her hair with one hand, and with his other, flicked his wand to pour another glass of wine each for he and Remus.

“Bet you’re tired,” James said.

“Bet you are, too.”

“Yeah, guess so.” James stifled a yawn. “Sorry I stunned you.”

“I don’t blame you. Sorry I showed up unannounced.”

“Glad you’re here, Moony. We’ve missed you.”

“Sorry I’ve been gone.”

“I know you don’t have a choice,” James sighed. “I feel like I’m all out of choices myself, d’ya know?”

“It’s like die one way or die another way.”

“I really want to live. I like living.”

“You’re really good at it,” Remus said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “You’re most alive person I know.”

James swished the wine around in his glass, staring at it as it swirled dangerously close to the rim.

“I’ve been trying to call him all night,” James said, his voice so low Remus barely heard him.

“Padfoot?”

James nodded. “I’ve been going to the bathroom and whispering into my mirror -- you know the mirrors we have?”

Remus nodded. Of course he did. The mirrors had been integral to many of their missions while they were at Hogwarts. Remus and Sirius would go off with one, and Peter and James with the other.

“But I’ve just been whispering. Because, you know, if he’s hiding, I don’t want to give him away. So maybe he hasn’t heard me.”

“Maybe,” Remus nodded, because it seemed like best thing to do, to validate that this version of events might be true. But his brain was flooded, like a damn opening up, with all of the possible realities he had been trying to ignore all evening. Sirius lying dead in a ditch. Sirius tied up in a dungeon somewhere. A hooded black figure shouting “Crucio!” and Sirius screaming in pain.

Remus cleared this throat. “This is not -- not normal?”

James shook his head, took a gulp of wine, and then immediately refilled his glass.

“It’s normal, but it’s not normal, you know?” He said. “It seems like someone dies every day. We’re always waiting for the news. Sometimes we get delayed on missions, you know? Hurt. Captured. I saw Voldemort myself last month…” he trailed off, then shook his head. “But no, we haven’t heard from Sirius since yesterday morning. It was just supposed to be an overnight trip. An errand or something.”

An image of Sirius trapped in a dungeon flashed through his mind. Tied to a chair. Tangled hair. Bloody. Remus felt tears prick in his eyes and he shook his head. The world felt fuzzy and unreal. This couldn’t be real.

“How worried are you?” Remus asked. “Compared to other times.”

“Fucking terrified,” James said. “It’s bound to be one of us sometime, you know?”

“I feel like I could barf. Or cry.”

James nodded. “It’s how we feel when you’re gone, too, Moony. I know you can’t tell us where you’ve been, but I s’pose we can guess, and we just always worry about you.”

“It’s not so bad,” Remus said. “It’s where I belong.”

James was silent. “I think you belong where people love you. Do they love you?”

Lily stirred and rubbed her eyes. “We love you, Remus,” she mumbled. Remus gave her ankle a light squeeze. She pulled herself up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “What time is it? You want to go to sleep? You probably haven’t had a good night’s sleep in forever.”

Remus checked the clock above the mantle. He’d been steadfastly avoiding it. He didn’t think he could bear to watch minutes tick by anymore. He wanted to go back to the woods. To the pack, a distraction, or just to wander alone. His friends seemed more distant in the woods. He could almost forget. But here, the pain and loss of the people he loved most seemed to penetrate his skin. “I don’t think I can sleep right now.”

“I got you a book I think you’ll really like for Christmas, Remus.”

“Oi! What are you on about, spilling Christmas secrets at this hour?” James asked, pulling her toward him and kissing the top of her head. Now, James could manage a smile.

“I just think you’ll really like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

There was a loud crack outside the house, and the three of them jumped up, drawing their wands. Then, someone was banging on the door, and Harry started crying upstairs. Adrenaline rushed Remus’s system. James and Lily shared a look, and she turned to go to Harry. Now, Remus thought, he could understand why James stunned him.

James opened the door, with Remus just behind his shoulder, wand at the ready.


	3. Christmas, 1980

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirius returns to the Potter household, stranger in tow.

Three people stood in the entrance way, but Remus hardly registered the two people supporting a blood-drenched, barely conscious Sirius. James asked security questions, and then took over for a dark headed girl who didn’t appear hurt, but was covered in blood. Sirius’s blood?

“Lupin, it’s been a while,” Gideon Prewett said, clapping him on the back once they’d gotten Sirius settled on the couch. Sirius’s eyes flickered open and closed, failing to focus on anything. The girl, who was maybe about their age, knelt by the sofa and took Sirius’s hand in both of hers. Remus didn’t recognize her, and he felt his heart clench at the thought that someone he didn’t know at all would be close enough to Sirius to hold his hand.

Lily came downstairs, a wide-eyed but silent Harry in her arms. “Sirius!” She passed Harry off to Remus, and drew her wand to begin examining his injuries. “What happened?”

“It was a trap,” Gideon said, “For Black, specifically, we think. We were staking out the LeStrange’s -- got a message that they were planning a muggle terror event there. We were jus’ gonna try to listen in on the details and go from there, but they got Sirius when he and Hemshaw came to switch shifts with me and Fabian.”

Remus was shocked at the quantity detail of the information that poured from Gideon’s mouth. Was this what the rest of them were allowed to share with each other?

Sirius’s breath had started evening out, and Remus had calmed somewhat, too, gently bouncing Harry in his arms. He wondered if children were categorically miracles in this way; he had to be calm, because he had a small human in his care. He began to perceive the environment again, the smells accosted him. First of Harry, soft, and innocent. He could smell Gideon, familiar, but not distinctive, and Sirius, a smell so specific and overwhelming that he sucked it in and then it filled a specific place in his brain. Like, he could find it if he wanted to be sure -- if he wanted that comfort -- but it didn’t stand out to him, demand to be noticed.

There was one scent that was demanding to be noticed, he realized, and he recognized the smell of a wolf. It had to be the girl. He took a closer look at her, dark shoulder length hair, and big blue eyes. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she had swirling tattoos covering her forearms and peaking out of her collar. He didn’t smell other wolves on her, and he realized how he must smell to her. Pack. Wilderness. Wild.

She looked up at him, then, and held his gaze until Sirius moaned and coughed and they turned their attention back to him. Lily was drawing on his chest with her wand; James was at Sirius’s head, gently stroking his hair; and the girl was still holding tight to his hand. He felt a strange urge to take Harry and go upstairs, like he didn’t belong in this place with these people anymore.

“I don’t know what happened in that house, Potter,” Gideon was shaking his head. “They did a real number on him. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, getting him out of there. Hemshaw here is the one who should get most of the credit, anyway. Took out some Death Eaters like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Thank you -- both of you,” James said. “Is Fab alright?”

“Yeah, he went on home so the family wouldn’t worry. I ought to be going to update Dumbledore myself, if you’ve got everything under control here.”

“I think he’s stable,” Lily said. “We can move him upstairs.”

“Good seeing you, Lupin,” Gideon said, “Glad you’re not dead, even if it means losing a couple galleons.”

“Thanks, Gid.” Remus managed a huffy laugh.

“How long are you ‘round for?”

“Not sure.”

“Fabian’s been saying he’d fancy seeing you if you popped through.”

“If I stay longer than Christmas, I’ll send an owl.”

“Alright then,” Gideon said, winking at him. Remus shifted Harry’s weight around, feeling uncomfortable under Gid’s gaze.

“Give me a hug before you go, Gideon,” Lily said. “Be safe.”

Lily and Remus watched as Gideon apparated away, just beyond the threshold of the cottage, then turned back to the sitting room where Hemshaw had released Sirius hand, and James was lifting Sirius gingerly into his arms.

“You’re welcome to stay, Holden,” Lily said, smiling at Hemshaw.

“If you don’t mind.” Hemshaw looked at Remus for the second time that night. She must know he was a werewolf, but Remus didn’t know if the glimmer of recognition went any further than that. Remus tried to suppress a rush of jealousy. Had Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs been going out with her on full moons?

“Not at all,” James said, “Come on.” He inclined his head toward the stairway, and she followed him up.

“Is the sofa alright, Remus?” Lily asked, taking Harry back from him. “I -- I’m sorry, I thought -- I thought there would be more space in Sirius’s room.”

“Yes, of course, Lily. You know I love this sofa.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“If you stay longer, we can set up a cot in Harry’s room. If you wouldn’t hate being in there with him.”

“Why would I hate that?”

“He cries.”

“Seems like that affects the whole house anyway,” Remus smiled. “It’s really fine, Lily.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Remus, I want you to know that.”

Remus lay on the sofa while Lily put Harry back to bed and tried to calm his mind. He focused on his breathing. He tried to sink into the couch. He considered apparating back to the forest. His skin crawled with a need to get out. But he didn’t know why. He supposed he couldn’t handle seeing the war affect his friends this way. He was weak. He wanted to run away to the forest, back to the pack, to try to convince others to join a war he was too afraid to face.

Lily came back with pillows and blankets. She kissed his forehead, smoothed his hair, and told him she loved him. James followed soon after, and sat down in the armchair, his body tense and his face drawn. “That’s the worst it’s ever been.” James put his face in his hands and his breath came in hitches. “For reference, if you want to know.” Remus felt out of his element at first, unsteady and unsure. But James got up, shoved his way onto the couch, and Remus put his arms around him. He felt like his entire world was falling apart, but he also remembered that the familiar pieces were still there. James was still James; Lily was still Lily.

Lily looked at the two men -- boys, really -- huddled together, and performed an enlargement charm on the sofa until it was big enough to fit the three of them. She climbed onto the other side of Remus and pulled blankets up to their chins.

“Do you think we’ll hear Father Christmas when he comes with gifts?” she asked, tapping Remus’s nose.

“I think I’ll hear you wake up and sneak back in here with some presents,” Remus said.

“Shush Moony, don’t ruin the mystery with your pragmatism,” James said. His voice was a bit raw and muffled, and Remus felt a wet spot beginning to form in the crook of his neck where James had nestled his face.

“Happy Christmas, loves,” Lily said.

“Happy Christmas,” James said.

Lily elbowed Remus. “Happy Christmas,” he said. “You don’t have to stay down here, you know.”

“Are you kidding?” James said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You might sneak away and think you’re doing all of us a favor, you self-sacrificing idiot.”

___

Remus did not sleep soundly that night. He was the most comfortable he’d been in months, but also the most uncomfortable. The couch was squishy, and Lily and James were warm comforting bodies -- he’d been sleeping in forest camps for months, and it had been even longer since he’d shared a bed with someone. But he couldn’t settle his nerves enough to sleep for more than an hour at a time.

He jerked awake when Lily got up sometime around 5:00 in the morning, according to the clock on the wall. She winked at him and tip toed upstairs, emerging 10 minutes later with an armload of presents. She added a stocking to the mantle, this one unlabeled, and filled it along with the rest. James snored loudly, and Remus finally conceded that he wouldn’t sleep any more. He followed behind Lily and distributed his meager gifts, as well.

“I’ve charmed Peter’s stocking to transport his gifts directly to his house,” Lily said. “I’m really proud of it.”

“That’s very impressive,” Remus murmured. Sure enough, though Lily had added items to the stocking, it was empty when Remus peeked inside a minute later.

Remus followed Lily into the kitchen and sat at the small round table while she put on hot water for coffee.

“Remember our early breakfasts at Hogwarts?” Remus asked. “I miss that.”

“I think breakfast is the foundation of our friendship story,” Lily said, handing him a mug.

“Do you remember when we met?” Remus asked.

Lily considered this. “Not exactly. I just remember coming downstairs in the first few days, when I was homesick and I couldn’t sleep, and finding you in the common room.”

Remus nodded. “I remember the habit, but not specifics.”  
Lily hummed in agreement.

“Sometimes, I’m afraid I’m going to forget all the good things, all that will be left is the…” he trailed off. The endless night in the woods, and cold. “I’ve been having a hard time casting a patronus.”

As soon as he mentioned his patronus, he regretted it. Remus felt like he was admitting he wasn’t strong enough for his mission, or for his war.

“I think you’ve got it the hardest of all of us, you know,” Lily said. “You’re out doing Merlin knows what all by yourself. None of the rest of us goes anywhere alone.”

And then Harry started to cry, and Lily frowned at Remus. “He’s an early riser, too,” she said.

“Go on then,” Remus said. “I’m alright.”

“Of course you aren’t. This conversation isn’t over young man.” She wagged her finger at him and kissed his head before she went upstairs to check on Harry. Remus gripped his mug, willing some of its heat to reach his heart.

He looked out the window at the quiet, snowy morning and began to plan his departure. Maybe he would go right now; he’d already left his gifts, and James and Lily knew he’d been here. They knew he loved them. Yes, he could sneak out right now, and it would be okay. The problem was that there was nowhere he wanted to be. The thought of the forest was suffocating and lonely. But the thought of staying here all day made him freeze up in anxiety. He thought of Sirius, how pale his face had been last night. The gash in his belly. Would he wake up today?

Did Sirius bet that Remus was dead? Would he be angry that Remus hadn’t kept in contact?

Would Sirius live?

Aren’t they all supposed to be kids? Remus wondered. He thought of Lily, upstairs nursing a baby, James, snoring on the couch, and Sirius, upstairs, having just been tortured at the hands of his cousin for days. And Remus, skittish, ready to bolt at any second, if it just meant he could breathe again.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and Remus knew he had missed his chance to leave. Instead of Lily, though, the stranger -- Hemshaw -- froze in the kitchen entryway. She was gathering tangled hair into a bun on top of her head, and wore rumpled clothes that were too big on her small frame, including a faded Chudley Cannons t-shirt that Remus had gotten Sirius for his birthday a few years ago. Remus felt a bit sick to his stomach, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was unease at how thoroughly an unknown stranger had integrated herself into his friends’ lives, or if it was unease at how thoroughly she seemed to have integrated herself into _Sirius’s_ life. Remus had only been gone for a few months, and this person was staying over at the Potters’ -- in Sirius’s room -- as if it were a common occurrence.

“So you’re the famous Lupin, eh?” She found the mugs easily and poured herself a cup of tea. “Sorry we didn’t get properly introduced last night. My mind was a bit elsewhere.”

“Fair enough,” Remus nodded. She joined him at the table, and he glanced toward the stairs, hoping Lily would be back soon.

“Holden Hemshaw,” she reached her hand out and he shook it. She had a firm grip. “They didn’t say you’re a werewolf.”

Remus flinched. He briefly wondered what did it mean that they hadn’t told her. Simple respect for his privacy? Or perhaps they hadn’t realized that she, too, had a furry little problem. That possibility seemed a bit far off to Remus -- he figured that at least James and Sirius would see the signs. Sirius might even be able to smell it on her.

“Do they know?” Hemshaw asked.

“Know what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Her eyes were narrow, but her posture was relaxed; She leaned back in the chair and ran her finger around the rim of her mug.

“Yes, they know,” Remus said. “Do they know about you?”

“Do they know you’ve been hanging around with Greyback?” she asked. Remus’s stomach churned.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Remus said. “And I haven’t been hanging out with Greyback.”

“The whole time I’ve known them, they’ve been worried about you. Thought you were dead.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And you’ve been consorting with the other side.”

Remus glared at her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know quite a lot about you -- from your friends. And I know you smell like Greyback.”

“Strange, since I haven’t seen him lately.” And that was true -- he’d been living with an offshoot of Greyback’s pack, not Greyback himself. Maybe that distant relation was enough; people came and went between the packs relatively frequently. The scents on Hemshaw herself were distinctly wolf-ish, but not recognizable to Remus as anyone he’d encountered before. Except for that bit of Sirius, mixing in with the rest.

They stared at each other for a few beats. “It would be okay if you told them, you know,” Remus said finally, hoping this encouragement would be some kind of olive branch.

“Told them what?”

“About your furry little problem.”

Hemshaw rolled her eyes.

“They’ve known about me for years. They worked it out themselves. How long have you been around anyway? You seem comfortable enough.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Clearly.” Remus broke eye contact and looked out the window. “All I’m saying is they might already know. Or they’ll probably find out. And maybe you’d like control over how they do.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You’re paranoid,” Remus said. “I wouldn’t out you unless I had no other choice.”

“They’re supposed to be your best friends. Won’t you tell them anything?”

“Most secrets aren’t mine to share, including this one.”

“Is this a tradeoff?” Hemshaw asked. “Are you saying I shouldn’t tell them you’ve been with Greyback?”

“I _haven’t_ been with Greyback,” Remus said, a growl creeping into his voice.

“Awfully defensive.”

“Tell them whatever you’d like, then,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. He was surprised tears pricking his eyes. _Get out, get out, get out, they don’t want you here_ , a voice inside his head told him.

“Moony?” James appeared in the doorway, yawning and running his hand through his bedhead. “You okay?” His eyes flicked between Remus and Hemshaw. Hemshaw leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Thought I heard voices.”

“I --” Remus started, but an owl tapped on the kitchen window as he tried to work out something to say. He got up to let it inside, and was surprised to find that the letter was addressed to him. He untied the letter and the owl flew off.

“No response needed, then,” James murmured. He watched as Remus unfolded the note.

_Mr. Lupin,_

_I’m glad that you took this opportunity for a holiday. Please visit me at Hogwarts at your earliest convenience. It’s best if you come alone._

_Wishing you a happy Christmas,_

_A. D._

“I have to go,” Remus said and started toward the living room to gather his things.

James followed on his heels. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been summoned.” Remus shoved the letter into his hands, unable to see a reason why he would need to hide it.

“Shut it,” James said. “It says ‘at your earliest convenience,’ stay at least for dinner.”

Remus felt tense, wound up like a coil. _Get out, get out, get out._ Would he throw up? He felt like throwing up.

He always felt like throwing up these days.

“But Lily --”

“Lily will be fine.”

“Sirius --”

“Sirius will also be fine, James.” He buttoned his coat, slung his pack over his shoulder and started for the door. It occurred to him that he was not all sure if Sirius was currently fine or would be fine in the future. He swallowed a wave of nausea. “You’re all doing just fine.”

“No we’re fucking not!” James yelled. “And neither are you!”

“You’re going to wake Sirius,” Remus said. “He probably needs all the sleep he can get.”

“Remus, please don’t go.”

“I love you, James,” Remus choked out. “Tell Lily and Sirius I love them, too.”

“What if Sirius dies? What if he _dies_ and you haven’t seen him?”

He stepped over the threshold of the Potters’ home, turned on the spot, and apparated into Hogsmeade. Tugging his coat closed, he started the trek toward the castle on foot.


	4. A New Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus spends a lot of time in his own head, gets a new assignment from Dumbledore, and visits the Prewett brothers.

The castle was quiet as Remus made his way to the headmaster’s office. The snowy walk had been good for him, cleared his mind a bit. His conversation with Hemshaw must’ve opened up some old wounds, some insecurities, that’s all. He hasn’t been replaced -- that’s a silly thought. His friends don’t doubt his allegiance to the Order -- that's what he told himself -- but perhaps it’s natural for a stranger to do so, especially when she thinks she smells Greyback on him. 

He would give his report. He would hear what Dumbledore had to say. And before he left Hogwarts to go back to the pack, he would write a sincere apology to James and Lily about his behavior. And he would write something to Sirius, too. Maybe. He didn’t have any idea what that letter would say, but he wanted Sirius to know he had thought of him, that he hadn't abandoned him. Remus considered himself a very good writer, but he could not imagine writing down his feelings for Sirius to read, especially knowing that Hemshaw was in the picture now. And what were his feelings, exactly? What did he want Sirius to know? 

 _I’m sorry I frightened your girlfriend?_ That didn’t seem quite right. But they were involved with each other, Sirius and Hemshaw, that was clear. Remus wondered if she was staking out her territory. But then the question remained -- did she consider her territory to include the Potters, too? Or just Sirius? Had Sirius told her about their conversation that summer?

 _I’m sorry I had to go before I could see you?_ Perhaps. Closer. But was it enough? 

 _I’m sorry I left you on what might very well be your deathbed because I was too scared to face you?_ Too honest.

If Remus could just figure out his emotions -- if he could sort through this terrible mix of perpetual fear, anxiety, loneliness and guilt, maybe things would feel better. He needed to be able to see where to go from here, to move forward confidently, to leave thoughts of Sirius, Peter, James and Lily behind and focus on his mission. If they could all just get through this war alive, then everything would be easier. Everything would be okay. The trouble was, it seemed less and less likely by the day that everyone would get through this alive, especially considering the events of the previous night. 

He rapped on the Headmaster’s door, and it swung open immediately. Remus took a seat across from Dumbledore, and took in the room. Faux was snoozing on his post, but each painting in the room was watching Remus with rapt attention.

“Very prompt, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any festivities.”

Remus shrugged. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Dumbledore about his tumultuous feelings. Instead, he rushed through a report on the movements of Greyback, according to his contacts in his branch of the pack. He thought a few of the werewolves he’d been working with were sympathetic to the Order’s cause. “But Dumbledore, we are really not offering enough to get them out of survival mode. Greyback helps them survive.”

Dumbledore nodded. “This is helpful information, Remus, thank you,” ignoring Remus’s pleas to increase the flow of resources to the werewolves, or make serious promises to improve their living conditions. The Death Eaters treated the werewolves like pets, but they had food and shelter and were protected from Ministry capture.

“I see you’ve had more luck recruiting werewolves when I’m not involved,” Remus said, finally.

“You met Miss Hemshaw, then?” Dumbledore smiled.

Remus would’ve liked to kick himself. He was being far too transparent.

“She’s one of the fiercest and most dedicated members we have,” Dumbledore said.

Remus nodded and looked at his hands. “She -- she thinks I’ve been consorting with Greyback. I swear I haven’t. I don’t know how to prove it, but I swear, Professor.”

“I believe you, Remus, of course,” Dumbledore said. “But I suppose that does bring us around to the real reason I called you here. I believe there is a spy in the Order.”

“What?!” Remus stood abruptly, knocking back his chair. His blood ran cold.

“Calm yourself, Remus.”

“I promise, sir, it’s not me.”

“I know, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore repeated. “I know it’s not you. I’m more sure that it’s not you than I am any other person in the Order -- other than myself, of course.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You haven’t been around for the past few months. You’ve been disconnected from the Order. There’s no way you could pass along our secrets -- the secrets that have been leaked, that is.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been seemingly small things, where we’re planning raids, where we have some safe houses. Things like the attack on Mr. Black just a couple nights ago. It looks almost coincidental --  _almost_.” Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk in front of him.

“You think someone told Voldemort where Sirius would be.”

“I do.”

Remus nodded. An active plot to take out Sirius. This felt like one of the worst things he had ever heard in his entire life.

“However, I did not call you here to talk about the spy. I came because I have a project for you of the utmost importance. It requires immense discretion, of which you have demonstrated you are a capable. Even the people you most want to tell -- your closest friends -- I must ask that you refrain from doing so. Can you do that?”

“Yes sir.” Though Remus did wonder if Dumbledore, in general, would be ill advised to trust someone with important secrets simply on the basis of them not leaking secrets they did not have access to in the first place. 

“I have selected you for this project because I am very sure you are not the spy, because you have demonstrated you can handle sensitive information without shouting it from the rooftops, so to speak, and because you have demonstrated strong and resourceful study skills.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Do you know anything about Horcruxes, Remus?”

“No sir.”

“I have received intelligence that Lord Voldemort has created one -- at least one. I believe it’s likely there are more. I need you to find out everything you can about them. And how to destroy them.”

“What is a horcrux, professor?”

“A piece of Voldemort’s soul, trapped in an object. He cannot truly die if a piece of his soul still lives.”

Remus shivered and again felt bile rising in his throat. “So he’s trying to ensure he can come back from the dead.”

“At least once. But I suspect he would like to achieve something like immortality.” Dumbledore paused, and Remus resisted the urge to hide his face in his hands. When would everything stop being too much? “I want to keep this knowledge as limited as possible. I do not want Lord Voldemort to become aware of what we know. Will you help?”

“Of course.” Was there any other answer? Was there any true choice?

“It’s just you, myself, and my informant who know about this, Remus. I’m sure you can understand the sensitivity of the information.”

“Yes, of course,” Remus repeated. “Your informant?”

“Shall remain anonymous for now.”

Remus nodded.

“You’ll have all the access you need to the Hogwarts library. I’ll be sure Madam Pince is aware. And now your work will not take you away from your friends, which I’m sure is a relief to you.”

"So I'm not going back to the pack?" 

"No." 

"What -- what about the others -- the other werewolves? What about the mission?" Was the Order abandoning them now? 

"Not to worry about them, Remus. I will handle it." 

"But, the relationships. They won't trust us any more if I disappear." 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Remus. "I hear your concerns, I do. I will handle it." 

"All of my work --" Remus felt his temper rising again. His eyes burned. He had made promises. When he didn't return, he would be fulfilling all of their predictions about wizards, even those who claimed to be good. 

"Was not in vain, I promise," Dumbledore interrupted. "Now, I would like you to focus on the matter of hand. It is quite urgent." 

Remus stood and pushed back from the desk. If he was going to cry, he certainly didn't want to do it here. “Fine. Can I start now?”

“You may.”

\--

When Remus left Dumbledore’s office, he ran full force into Marlene McKinnon, who was pacing furiously outside the great stone gargoyle.

“Finally!” she huffed, and pushed passed him and up the stairs.

“I cannot believe…” Remus heard her shout before the great stone wall reassembled itself and cut off any further sound from the Headmaster’s office.

__

Remus studied in Hogwarts library until late that evening, huddled away in the Restricted section. He’d seen no one since leaving Dumbledore’s office, except house elves who had miraculously appeared with food at regular intervals. His thoughts flickered to his friends gathered at the Potters’ and to Marlene, angry at Dumbledore for what must be a well-founded reason. He tried to keep focused on the texts in front of him to occupy his mind and prevent the nausea and jittery anxiety that consumed him every time he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Remus wasn’t sure how he felt about his new assignment. He was glad to escape the forest and the loneliness that consumed him there, but he was also carrying a not insignificant amount of guilt and shame about his behavior this morning. And he was keenly aware of how he'd abandoned the pack. The betrayal they would feel when he didn't return with reserves of food and extra coats, as he typically did after meetings with Dumbledore. He hadn't explained this well enough to Dumbledore, and he felt sure that all the progress, all of his pain, would be worth nothing now that we wouldn't return. He’d thought he would be back with the pack by tonight. Maybe, he had thought it would be easier to go back -- and stay away -- if he alienated his friends. Perhaps he could use that as justification for his actions this morning, even though there was part of him that knew he was simply afraid of rejection. But instead of rejoining the pack in the winter woods, and instead of enjoying warm food with the Potters, he was getting restless in the library and without a place to spend the night. His head felt heavy and foggy. Perhaps he would just fall asleep here in the library. Madam Pince was gone, and it was unlikely that any students would discover him in this corner.

In the end, he decided to go to the Prewetts. Gideon had dropped the hint about Fabian, and he hoped he would receive minimal judgement there. He had to put away thoughts of the pack. That was out of his control, now. He could decide what to do about James and Lily and Sirius tomorrow, once he had gotten some rest; perhaps that would clear his head.

He apparated into an alley near their home and walked slowly toward the brick apartment building on a busy London street. He knocked on the door, and Gideon answered, grinning at him as he shoved Remus’s chin up with his wand.

“What’s the magic word?” Gideon asked with a wink.

“Last place I saw you was last night when you drug my half-dead best friend into Potter’s house.”

“And before that?” Gideon winked at him.

“When you caught me and Fabian having sex on your couch.”

“Righto, come on in, Remus. Good to see ya mate.”

He caught Fabian snickering behind Gid’s shoulder. They invited him in, made sure he had eaten, and only made one joke about how come he had ditched the Potters in their favor. They played several rounds of exploding snap and Gideon excused himself to go to bed.

Fabian put the cards away and poured another glass of wine for himself and Remus. He took Remus’s chin in his hand and gently turned his face toward him, planting a light kiss on his lips. “What’s on your mind, Remus?” he asked. “I’m not getting the feeling that you came over for a shag.”

Remus shrugged.

“Nah, I think you’re running away from something. Which is very unlike you. You’re the sort to run straight at danger and leave behind whatever good sense your mother tried to give ya.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You’re supposed to agree, and then tell me all about the werewolves you’ve been spending your time with, and then tell me why you’re avoiding James and company.”

“I cannot confirm or deny any of that.”

“Come on Remus, anyone with a brain knows that you’ve been with the werewolves. And James and Sirius and especially Lily don’t have their heads so far up their asses that they haven’t worked it out themselves.”

Remus groaned and slumped back in his seat.

“So you’re avoiding them.”

“Am not.”

“Quit being a petulant child. It’s not attractive.”

Remus elbowed Fabian in the ribs.

“What are you avoiding?”

Remus grunted.

“Here’s where I get stuck. You’ve been gone for so long, and I can’t work out if that was due to necessity or choice. Or some combination of the two.”

“Spending a lot of time thinking about me, eh, Prewett?” Remus tried to joke.

“Are you in lust for Sirius?”

Remus flinched. “What?”

“I’m not offended -- I know we’re just having fun, you and me.” When Remus didn’t answer, Fabian pushed on. “Anyway, I think you should consider coming out to them. They’re an accepting bunch. I should know, and you should know.”

“It’s one thing being a werewolf, and it’s one thing being gay. It’s a totally different thing to be a gay werewolf.”

“Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to be queer, or who should know, or anything like that. I hate that shit. I’m just reminding you that they’re your friends. And they love you for your heart.” Fabian placed his open palm against Remus’s chest.

“That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to repeat it.” Fabian pressed a firm kiss into Remus’s lips. “You’re a good man, Lupin.”

Remus smiled against Fabian’s mouth, and pulled away. “I’m not opposed to a shag, you know.”

“Neither am I. I’ll send you on back to the Potters’ in the morning.”


	5. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus returns to the Potters' house after a pep talk from Fabian.

“I’ll shove you through the floo connection myself, Lupin,” Fabian said the next morning, handing Remus the bag of floo powder. Remus was showered and fed, and while he hadn’t managed to kick his churning stomach ache, he supposed he felt as good as he could expect to feel in the near future. Gideon had sent an owl at the crack of dawn -- before Remus was fully awake -- telling James and Lily that Remus would be arriving midmorning. They hadn’t received a response. 

“I would like to decline your offer,” Remus said. “But maybe we should wait until your owl comes back.” 

“No you don’t, no excuses.” 

“They might not be home!” Remus threw his hands up in the air and took a step back from the fireplace. 

“Tell me one more time what you’ll say.” 

Remus sighed. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly.” 

“And?” 

“I’ve missed you, and I was worried I wouldn’t fit back into your lives,” Remus recited and shifted his pack from one shoulder to the other. 

“But say it like you mean it.” Fabian clapped Remus on the back. “Really put some heart into it.” 

“What about Hemshaw?” 

“What about her?” 

“What do you think of her?” 

“You’re stalling.” Fabian nudged him closer toward the fire place. Remus nudged him back. “If all goes to shite, come back here.” 

“Right, but I’m coming back later anyhow because I really do want to know what you think of her.” 

“You’re only allowed to come back within 24 hours if they’ve kicked you out. Which they won’t do.” 

“You don’t know what they’ll do.” 

“If you keep this up, I’ll make it 48 hours.” 

“Alright, alright.” 

“There’s a good boy.” 

Remus gagged theatrically at Fabian, took a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

Fabian winked. “We can have congratulatory or consolation sex when you get back, which ever’s more appropriate.”

___

Remus stumbled a bit as he landed in the Potters’ fireplace. The green flames cleared and James was immediately in his face, his wand pointed at his face. This, Remus thought, was among the things he hated most about being back in Wizarding Society during wartime -- the endless exchange of passwords. 

The wolves could smell each other’s identities. Your nose couldn’t tell you who to trust, but it at least made sure everyone knew who everyone was. There was still the matter of the imperius curse, but Remus supposed the wolves didn’t consider that much of a threat. 

Remus’s gaze flicked to Hemshaw, who stood leaning casually against the kitchen doorway. She (again) was wearing an oversize t-shirt that Remus recognized as belonging to Sirius.

“What’s my patronus form?” James asked. 

“A stag, Prongs.” 

“Not the best security question, I don’t think.” Hemshaw said, pushing herself off the doorframe and approaching them. 

“Who was my first kiss, then?” Remus thought he caught James glare at Hemshaw out of the corner of his eye. 

“Our dear Sirius Black, of course.” 

Hemshaw stopped short and her mouth dropped open a bit, Remus noted with contained delight. 

James lowered his wand. “I don’t know whether I want to hit you or hug you.” 

“Think of the example you’ll set for Harry,” said Lily, appearing from the kitchen, said child in her arms. “But in no uncertain terms, we’re angry at you.” 

Remus nodded. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m prepared to offer forgiveness,” James said. 

Hemshaw cleared her throat. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea -- you don’t know where he’s been.” 

“Remus is one of my oldest friends; I trust him with my life.” 

Remus dropped his pack on the floor. 

“I won’t tolerate any bashing of him in my house.” Remus thought he’d never seen James look quite this angry. His brow was furrowed, and his fists clenched at his side. 

“Don’t worry about me, James,” Remus said, his voice wavering a bit more than he’d have liked. “I can handle it. We all have secrets, don’t we?” 

“I don’t know that you can handle it, considering you ran out on Christmas yesterday. How are we supposed to know when we’ll see you again?” 

“I’m here for a while now --” 

“Sure, sure,” Lily said with a wave of her hand. “Listen, what we want you to know is that we want you here.” 

“And -- and we understand that sometimes you have to leave,” James added hastily. 

“Right,” Lily continued. “But when you don’t have to leave, you are wanted.” 

Hemshaw rolled her eyes, but neither Lily or James saw. 

“Maybe we were overwhelming the other day?” Lily asked. “And if so, we’re sorry for that. Just -- just don’t run out on us without -- it doesn’t hurt any less when you leave just like that.” 

“We know you have to go -- we really do,” James said again, “and that you can’t tell us everything.” 

“But to be honest, it hurt when we found out you spent Christmas with the Prewetts instead of us,” Lily said. 

“And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you did that,” James said, tossing his hands in the air. 

“It’s not exactly like that,” Remus said. 

James released some of the tension in his body and sat down on the couch, rubbing his face in his hands. After a moment, he looked back up at Remus, “Then what is it like, mate?” 

Remus felt his body craving to bolt again, thinking they’d be better off without him. He saw Hemshaw, arms crossed and glaring at him, and he wished she was gone. He wanted to blame all of his uneasiness on her, but the logical part of his brain knew she wasn’t fully at fault. 

Remus stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to look everywhere except Lily, James and Hemshaw. But when he accidentally caught Lily’s eye, her brows were furrowed in concern. “I better check on Sirius,” she said. “Want to come up with me, Holden?” 

Hemshaw hesitated, “I --” 

“I could use a hand changing the bandages,” Lily said. “And I’m sure James and Remus could use a minute alone.” 

Hemshaw glared at Remus but followed Lily upstairs. Lily cast a glance over her shoulder before she completely disappeared into the darkness of the upstairs hallway. “You better be here when I get back, Lupin.” Remus wouldn’t have cared if Lily stayed, and he knew she had withdrawn Hemshaw from the equation for his benefit. He sat down on the couch next to James. 

“Hemshaw thinks you’ve been consorting with Greyback,” James said quietly. 

“I haven’t, I swear.” 

“We all know you’ve been with the werewolves, deep cover and all that. And we get why you can’t respond to our letters, we do --” 

“It’s just hard for some people to maintain faith in things they can’t see, eh?” Remus asked. 

“I just don’t get why Hemshaw -- she doesn’t know, Remus, swear we haven’t told her about your furry little problem. I mean, sure, she’s stuck around Sirius longer than anyone in my memory, but that doesn’t mean --” 

“Wait,” Remus put his hand on James’s knee, which was jiggling as though it was an entity entirely separate from James himself. The knee bouncing reminded Remus of Sirius, and Remus realized he wasn’t sure if James picked it up from Sirius or the other way around. Or perhaps, that was one of the ways his two friends were inherently similar: two giant balls full of barely contained energy. “I know you didn’t tell her,” Remus said. 

“Sirius didn’t either, I know he didn’t. I don’t know how she knows.” 

“It’s okay James. I’m the one who should be apologizing. And besides, basically everyone in the Order knows that I’m a werewolf. What’s one more?” Remus bit his lip and looked away from James. “You really don’t know how she knows?” 

“Not everyone!” James said indignantly. “Wait -- you know how she knows?” 

Remus nodded. 

“You’re not going to tell me,” James said. 

“It’s not my secret to tell,” Remus said, giving James what he hoped was a meaningful look. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t figure it out yourself.” 

James pondered this for a moment -- a moment longer than Remus thought should’ve been necessary -- and then his eyes widened. “Oh. I am a giant idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot. You’ve got other things to worry about.” 

“Well, fuck.” 

Remus nodded. “Anyway, that’s why she thinks I’ve been with Greyback. I must smell like his pack.” 

“Does that mean she is . . . acquainted with Greyback?” 

“I’m not in the business of accusations, James.” Remus glanced at the staircase. “Especially since I’m looking pretty guilty to her right now.” 

“Well, it should be obvious it was for an Order mission.”

Remus shrugged. “Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. You can get back to yelling at me any time.” 

“I don’t want to yell at you.” 

“Go on, I spent all morning preparing myself for this.” 

That seemed to inspire James a bit. “Right! And how did you end up at the Prewetts?” but then he paused. “Well, I suppose if Hemshaw had been accusing you of consorting with Greyback, maybe you didn’t want to come back, eh? I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“It just makes me look guilty, doesn’t it? That I didn’t come back? What a giant pit I’ve dug myself” Remus offered James a hesitant smile. 

“Stop that, Moony. None of us doubt you one bit. No one who matters anyway.” 

“Anyway, my assignment got changed. So, I’ll -- um -- be around more…” 

“Really? That’s great -- er, what do you think, I mean?” 

“I’ll be doing research for Dumbledore. I started yesterday, and I just felt really ashamed, I guess, after running out of here like I did. So, that’s why I didn’t come back.” 

“You can always come back here, Remus, no matter what.” James chuckled. “No matter what an idiot you’re being.” 

“That’s so touching, Prongs,” Remus said, elbowing James in his side. 

“You know me.” James let out a long breath. “I -- uh -- didn’t realize you were friends with Gid and Fab.” 

“Oh.” 

“I mean, I guess I thought you’d go to Peter’s if you didn’t come here,” he said, his voice rising a bit at the end like he was asking a question.

Remus heart beat loudly in his ears. He remembered Marlene telling him that he didn’t need to hide this part of himself. 

“Obviously you can have friends outside just us, of course, I don’t even know what I’m saying really, I just ...” he trailed off. 

Remus looked at James, who was flushed and focusing very hard on the coffee table. 

“I just want you to know that you can come here any time, no matter what, and you can tell me anything you want to -- no matter what -- except the Order secrets, I know you can’t tell me those --” 

“James, you’re rambling,” Remus said. 

“Right, sorry, that’s all I wanted to say.” 

“Look, you’re right,” Remus took a deep breath. “I,” he cleared his throat. “I occasionally sleep with Fabian.” 

James bounced up in his seat. “I knew it!” He paused. “Well, that’s not true. Lily guessed it. But still.” 

Remus sighed. “Look --” 

“Obviously this doesn’t change anything. I love gay people.” 

“Merlin! James, of course I know you ‘love gay people.’ Sometimes it’s just different when it’s someone you know.” 

“I know Fabian already!” 

“Oh, great, you know one gay person. That’s a really stellar record.”

“You mean you’ve told other people? Besides Fabian?” 

“Wha-- yes, I mean -- yes.” 

“Who?” 

“That’s beside the point.” 

“I thought I was your best friend! Who is there to tell before me?” 

“James.” 

“I mean, I need to know who it’s a secret from.” James shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. 

“It’s not, like, a relationship, me and Fabian. That’s what I was going to say.” 

“Ah,” James nodded knowingly, though Remus knew James had absolutely no concept of casual sex.

“Anyway, I’m done talking about this if you are.” Remus pushed himself up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen. Some tea would be nice, he thought, to calm his stomach. 

James followed. “But can I tell Lily?” 

“Of course.” 

“Sirius?” 

Remus coughed and began to fill the kettle with water. It felt like static was filling his ears. 

“I don’t think he’ll be weird about it,” James was saying. “I mean, maybe a little bit at first, but he’ll warm up.” 

“He knows.” 

“What?” 

“He already knows.” Remus dug around in the cabinet for tea. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.” 

“Okay, okay,” James pulled Remus away from the cupboard and found the tea tin himself. “But you know you can talk to me about anything, right? That’s the entire point of this conversation.” 

“Yeah, James, I know.” 

“And no more running away.” 

“Agreed.” 

____ 

Lily came back downstairs, absent of both Hemshaw and Harry. Remus helped her heat up leftovers for the group. She was quiet, and Remus thought she seemed tense. She cleared her throat. 

“Holden wants to move Sirius to her place,” she said. 

“What?” That’s not what Remus was expecting. “But you’re a healer.” 

“Because she doesn’t trust you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Of course we -- James and I -- trust you, Remus. I hope that’s what he conveyed earlier.” 

“I’ll go. Sirius should be here. It’s best for him if he’s here.” 

“It’s not like she has any more valid claim to him and his health decisions than we do.” She slung a lump of mash onto a plate with a bit more force than necessary. “James is his emergency contact -- if we asked the Ministry.” Both of them knew they were not going to ask the Ministry about anything. “Besides, it’s better if he’s here. James and I don’t get sent on the same missions anymore, since Harry.” Best to leave Harry with at least one living parent, Remus supposed, should anything happen. 

Remus cleared his throat. “So he hasn’t woken up?” 

Lily shook her head. “Not really. There have been moments where he’s awake, but not lucid. Doesn’t know where he is or who we are. It’s awful. I don’t know what they did to him there, but I’m worried they’ve messed with his brain.” 

Remus nodded. “Do you think she’d let me see him?” 

“Holden? I’d fight her on it.” 

“No need, Lily, it’s okay.” 

“You are not an outlaw, and you won’t be treated like one in my house. Merlin.” Lily and Remus began carrying plates out to the dining table. “I don’t understand. She’s a werewolf -- why should she mistrust you so much?” she whispered. If it was recent, she could be in denial. He doubted she would have such a controlled sense of smell if she was newly turned, but he could also be mistaking control for a lack thereof. Perhaps, she was mistaking the smell of Greyback himself for the smell of his pack. 

Remus shrugged. “Don’t know.” This was not entirely sure. But Remus was surprised that Lily couldn’t understand why Hemshaw wouldn’t be inclined to trust him, especially when Remus didn’t trust her himself. “Suppose there could be loads of reasons. It’s not like I automatically trust everyone new I meet.”

She shook her head. “She hasn’t said a word about it to us, you know. I suppose I suspected, saw the signs, you know, but I wasn’t sure.” She paused. “I wonder if Sirius knows.” 

“I want to say that I would be surprised if he didn’t know. But, James needed help figuring it out, so now I think it’s a toss-up.” 

“Fair.”

“Do you know anything else about her?” 

“Not much. She and Sirius met through the Order. Not sure who recruited her. Might’ve been Dearborn?” 

Remus hummed and set out the table for four. He knew Dumbledore wouldn’t take in an unvetted werewolf -- an unvetted anything, really. Dumbledore claimed tolerance for those who experienced discrimination in the wizarding society, but Remus suspected Dumbledore only trusted a small few, and Remus -- boy-werewolf -- because he owed everything good in his life to Dumbledore. 

James joined them shortly thereafter, and the three of them sat down to eat. Hemshaw didn’t make an appearance. After they were finished, Lily made a plate to take upstairs. 

“Tell her I won’t stay long,” Remus said, catching her arm before she left the kitchen. “Tell her -- okay?” 

“Remus --” 

“Mate, it’s not up to her who’s welcome in our house,” James said, pausing as he rinsed plates clean. “That’s up to Lily and me.” 

“I have other places I can go. Fabian’s, for one. My own place, even.” 

James and Lily looked at each other for a long moment. “Sirius let the lease run out,” he said finally. 

Remus’s stomach sank. Sirius abandoned their home together. He didn’t think Remus would return. Perhaps, he didn’t want Remus to return. 

Remus shook his head. “Still,” he said. “Tell her I’ll go. I have plenty of work to do, and other places I can be. I’ve thought about it. I don’t want cause conflict.” 

“Quit with the self-sacrifice, it’s unattractive,” James said. 

“And I don’t think you should tell her that you know she’s a werewolf.” 

“How would that even come up?” Lily asked. 

Remus shot a pointed look at James. “Some people in this house like to force an issue.” 

James rolled his eyes. “You and Hemshaw are different --”

“I just don’t want her to think I outed her.” 

“Fine. We won’t tell unless she tells us.”


	6. A Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hemshaw leaves the Potter home for the moment, and Remus has nightmare and avoids thinking about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter transition chapter -- trying to work through how the next few chapters will play out!

Remus slept on the couch alone that night, though James had shot him an apologetic glance as he followed Lily upstairs. Hemshaw had not made any other appearances that evening, for which Remus was grateful. It had left him with Lily and James and Harry; they put on a record and Remus and James played a round of chess and drank wine. They stopped speaking of things that really mattered, but Remus caught James staring at him occasionally, or Lily elbowing James in his side. Harry did a lot of babbling.

Remus willed his mind to let him sleep, to shut off the endless stream of pictures in his mind featuring a wounded Sirius. And when he finally did sleep, his dreams were riddled with horror -- finding Sirius dead in a meadow of grass and wildflowers, a gash in his chest, and blank eyes staring up at the starry night sky -- strange, uneasy beauty next to pain. Next, Sirius was attacking Remus, aiming spells at him and chasing him across Hogwarts grounds. Dream-Remus tripped over a rock, scrambled to his feet, but then fell into a deep pit, directly onto the cold, pale body of Sirius. He pushed himself away from the body and looked out of the pit, the live version of Sirius pointing his wand at him with glowing red eyes.

Remus woke with a start to the sound of a loud tap on the living room window. Dawn had not yet broken and for all Remus can tell, it might still be the middle of the night. A plain barn owl was perched outside, and Remus wrestled drearily with the window to let it inside. It carried a single envelope -- inscribed with the name “Ms. Hemshaw” in the characteristic script of Albus Dumbledore. Remus attempted to untie the letter from its foot, but the owl squawked and pecked at his hand so hard that his skin broke.

“Come on now,” Remus said, affecting what he hoped was a gentle tone to his voice. “I’ll make sure she gets it.” The owl ruffled its feathers and danced away from Remus’s hands. “Alright, I understand,” he conceded, and took a couple steps back to give the owl some space. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, it was an immediate summons to some Order business.

Remus considered his options. He supposed he could attempt to sleep until Hemshaw -- or Lily and James, at least -- woke up. Or, he could go upstairs and wake Hemshaw at this very moment, under the pretense that the owl was making a fuss. Would that make him seem suspicious? What was the normal thing to do, in these circumstances? Remus wondered. If the missive were for James, Remus would let him sleep, the Order could wait until morning. He supposed that settled it well enough; he should care for Hemshaw in the way that he cared for James, if only because Sirius cared for her. Still, Remus didn’t much like the resolution.

The owl hooted. Remus starred at the ceiling. He didn’t fall back asleep, but instead replayed his horrible dreams on an endless loop. Finally, after an unknowable amount of time, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He closed his eyes and attempted to make his breath deep and even. The owl ruffled its feathers and hooted again. The footsteps paused in front of the couch, and Remus could smell Hemshaw.

Hemshaw huffed. “You’re not fooling me, Lupin.”

Remus opened his eyes. “You’ve got a letter.”

“I can see that. You should’ve woke me,” Hemshaw said, crouching in front of the owl and untying the bit of parchment from it’s leg. Her hair was mussed from sleep, her clothes hanging loose on her small frame, and her feet bare. The tattoos that covered her arms extended to the tops of her feet, vines of leaves ending in flower buds.

“I figured you could use as much rest as you could get.”

Hemshaw rolled her eyes at Remus but didn’t otherwise respond.  She left with the letter, and Remus heard her put the kettle on in the kitchen. She came back with a treat for the owl, which it gobbled happily, and then she opened the window for it to fly free.

“You could at least bother to feed the owl, you know,” she grumbled at Remus before disappearing back into the kitchen.

______

Remus must’ve drifted off to sleep, because he woke to soft voices at the entryway of the Potters’ home. Remus could see Hemshaw, now dressed and hair combed, with a small pack slung over her shoulder, standing at the door with Lily and James. Lily handed her a small paper sack of food and offered her a stiff hug.

“Be safe,” James said. “Owl us when you can.”

Hemshaw nodded. When she opened the door, a cold gust of air flooded the room. She stepped outside, turned on the spot, and apparated away before James could push the door shut.

James let out a dramatic sigh, sounding so much like Sirius that Remus felt a sharp pain at the thought of him laying upstairs, unconscious. He turned toward the couch as Remus pulled himself up into a sitting potion. Remus’s joints ached; he flexed his wrists a few times to try to work out the kinks.

“Moony! My good man,” James said, flinging himself onto the couch. Remus managed to pull his legs out from James’s trajectory just in time. “How long have you been pretending to be asleep?”

“Not long at all.”

“Who wants to make cinnamon buns this morning?” Lily asked, poking her head out from the kitchen.

“Me!” James said, bouncing up and down and patting Remus on the knee a bit harder than he would’ve liked. “We’re celebrating!”

“What are we celebrating? The 27th of December?”

“Hemshaw has left the building!” James sang, standing up from the couch and tugging Remus along with him into the kitchen.  

Remus felt a strange urge to clamp his hand over James’s mouth, as if someone might hear. Sirius, Remus rationalized, might hear them from upstairs.  

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly,” Remus said. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. Harry was sat in a high chair

“She _dares_ to come into _my_ house and insult _my_ best friend and act like _she_ knows what’s best for _my_ brother. It was all I could do to not kick her out immediately.”

Lily turned a bowl of dough out onto the flowered counter top. “Here, James, roll out this dough. No magic, alright?” She handed him a rolling pin. “Take your frustrations out here and then we can eat our feelings once they’re done.”

“As _if_ she could take better care of Sirius than we can. As _if_ I would let him out of my sight.”

“Don’t roll the dough too thin, love,” Lily said, resting a gentle hand on James’s elbow.

“How do you get it into the right shape?” James asked, cocking his head to get a different look at the dough. The mass, while it had flattened out a bit, resembled a puddle of spilt milk rather more than a uniform rectangle.

Lily shrugged. “Just do your best.” She placed a small dish of melted butter and a mixture of cinnamon and sugar next to James. “When you’re finished, add the butter and then sprinkle this on top.”

Remus sat at the table and drank his tea while he watched James work. He offered his assistance to Lily, but she declined and joined him at the table.

“Leaving all the heavy lifting to me, eh?” James said, placing his floury palms on her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss.

Remus felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment, and his thoughts drifted upstairs.

“You want to go up and see him, Remus?”

“Hm?”

Lily was looking at him expectantly. “Sirius, do you want to go up? Now that Hemshaw’s gone…”

Remus shook his head. “No, no,” he cleared his throat and tried to shoo away images of a pale faced Sirius wrapped in bloody bandages. “I -- uh, I need to go do some work at Hogwarts, for my new project today.”

Lily nodded.

“When I get back…” Remus said. “I’ll see him then.”

“I think it would be good for you both,” she said. “He hasn’t -- he doesn’t seem to be himself or really know what’s going on, and I think more familiarity would be good.”

James grunted in agreement, still trying to make the dough resemble a rectangle.

“He misses you, you know,” Lily went on.

“He abandoned our apartment, he can’t have missed me that much.”

“He couldn’t stand to be there without you, love.”

“Well, he could hardly stand to be there _with_ me, either.”

James sighed deeply, “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but I do wish you would’ve worked it out before you disappeared and Sirius had a near-death experience. Would’ve saved us all a headache.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Hopefully it doesn't feel like I'm taking Hemshaw out of the picture too soon... she'll be back. 
> 
> Regulus should be making his next appearance quite soon!


	7. Magick Moste Evile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus is at a loss for how to proceed on his research project, and Regulus reunites with his cousins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: brief reference to past abuse

Remus scarfed down his cinnamon bun before he entered the Hogwarts library; he didn’t think Madam Pince would look kindly on him for eating near the precious books, even now that he had graduated. The halls were still quiet, and Remus momentarily allowed himself to pretend that he was coming down for a regular moment of quiet study on a weekend, before Sirius awoke and demanded to be entertained. He imagined he stopped by the Great Hall for a pastry, where he might also find Lily and enjoy a cup of tea. When they finished, it would still be early enough to catch an hour or two of study before James finished with Quidditch practice and Sirius and Peter had awoken enough to bother him.

Today, Madam Pince nodded curtly at him when he passed her desk, and he found a spot in a dark corner of the restricted section. He hoped that if he stayed far enough away from the windows, he could immerse himself in the research and lose track of passing time. He gathered the books he had started reading on his last visit: volumes on theoretical magic regarding extending the human lifespan, healing books on miraculous cures throughout wizarding history, general compendiums on the dark arts with names like _Magick Moste Evile_. He read about gruesome curses that put the victim in a death-like sleep, or made people bleed out from their tear ducts. He read about Nicolas Flamel and his work on the Philosopher’s stone. He set his quill to write on its own and he dictated to it anything that might be even slightly important.  

When he became frustrated and overwhelmed with the sheer amount of possibly related (but very likely unrelated) information contained in his notes, he decided to write out several research questions for himself. He needed goals; he needed to be able to track his progress; he needed to keep his mind on his work and quit mulling over what he would possibly do when he saw Sirius later that evening. The first question was clear and straightforward:

_1\. What is a Horcrux? How is a Horcrux made?_

Dumbledore told Remus that horcruxes were intended to extend the life of the maker, should their original body perish. Therefore, He imagined that the object they were contained inside would do well to be rather indestructible. So, another question:

_2\. What types of objects work well to create a Horcrux?_

_3\. Do I need to capitalize “Horcrux” each time I write it? Is it a proper noun?_

If only he could find horcruxes mentioned somewhere in his pile of books, he would have an answer to that question. It certainly _felt_ like a rather intimidating word -- one that would want to be capitalized.

_4\. How many Horcruxes can someone make?_

Remus imagined that there must be more than one horcrux out there, or else Dumbledore wouldn’t be so concerned about learning everything about them. How would they figure out how many there were? And then, how would they find them?

_5\. How would someone go about protecting a horcrux?_

That question would open up an additional line of research. While researching horcruxes was like searching for a needle in a haystack, researching wards and curses and very very dark arts was a lifetime’s worth of research -- like analyzing every single strand of hay in a very large haystack, if he was going to follow through on this simile. Remus avoided spending much time reflecting on the inner workings of Voldemort’s mind, but he imagined that Voldemort would’ve preferred obscure and very deadly curses to protect bits of his soul. He sighed and buried his face in his arms. He felt tired, so tired -- of this war, of this pain, of feeling afraid all the time, of being ripped apart every single month and having to sew his body back together, and being so helpless to stop any of it.

_____

Regulus took a long, deep breath and exhaled evenly. He cleared his brain of emotion and pushed his scheduled meeting with Dumbledore out of his mind. He must remain present. No thoughts of McKinnon, no thoughts of Kreacher. It was unlikely that the Dark Lord would be present tonight, but Snape and Bellatrix were both more-than-capable Occlumens, and Bellatrix in particular had been known to break down his defenses before. He knocked on the front door of the Malfoy Manor and drew his cloak closer to him to protect from the cold.

A house elf opened the door and stared at him with huge eyes. Regulus resisted the urge to smile. “Lucius and Narcissa should be expecting me,” he said stiffly. The elf nodded, allowed him inside and took his coat before leading him into the sitting room, which was occupied by Lucius, Narcissa and Bellatrix.

“So nice of you to make an appearance, Black,” drawled Lucius Malfoy. He reclined gently in his chair and drummed his fingers against the side table. The Malfoy's home was much larger than Grimmauld Place. The sitting room had been recently redone. It was dimly lit by the setting sun and the furniture was upholstered in dark emerald green with silver accents, atop a cold tile floor. The only warmth in the room came from the fireplace and the plush rug that was positioned just beyond the hearth.  

“He’s being genuine,” Narcissa said. rising from her place by the fire. She gave him a hug and pulled him farther into the room. “You just can’t tell.”

“Mother’s been ill,” Regulus said, hoping that would be enough explanation. He took a seat near Narcissa, the safest of the three.

“You ought to get another house elf to help care for her,” Narcissa said. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“And you shouldn’t shirk your duty to the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix said. She took a sip of wine. “We wouldn’t want him to think you’re getting cold feet at this critical hour.”

“Of course I’m not.” Even voice, even hands. _This is easy_ , he told himself -- he willed it to be true. He’d been playing this game for years.

“It’s suspicious timing, is all, considering you missed out on a fun game with our dear Sirius and his pet werewolf.”

“Lupin?” Regulus asked, “thought he was out with one of the packs -- trying to recruit. Wasn’t Greyback going to handle him?”

“Not him -- the girl,” Malfoy supplied.

Regulus didn’t know who they were talking about -- what girl? He cleared his throat. “I truly am behind the times -- though to be honest, I lost interest in my brother’s dating life years ago, it became rather hard to follow.”

Narcissa giggled.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “I suggest you read up on her; the Dark Lord thinks she might be willing to switch sides.”

Regulus thought this strange -- it was completely unlike Sirius to associate with anyone who wasn’t firmly on Dumbledore’s side, at least knowingly. “Doesn’t he already have one spy in the Order? Why does he need more?”

“Are you questioning his methods?” Bellatrix raised her eyebrows with him.

“Relax, Bella, I’m just making conversation.”  He looked around the room. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Malfoy? Or shall I get one myself?”

Lucius snapped his fingers, and a house elf appeared with a crack. Regulus flinched. “Something to drink for Mr. Black,” Lucius directed. The house elf squeaked and poured Regulus a glass of wine.

“Now, Bella, tell me about your business with my brother. I’m sure you’re eager to tell the story again.”

“We leaked a bit of business to the Order, let one of them overhear us one night in the Hogshead,” Bellatrix said. She leaned forward into her chair. “And Sirius, of course, came running, he and his little pet. We caught him, let her go, and played a few games for the Christmas holidays -- Rodolphus, Rabastan and I. He’ll cry if you push him hard enough, you know.”

Regulus did know, perhaps better than anyone. He preferred not to think about it, but he also knew that nothing brought Bellatrix more joy than did her little “games.” So he indulged her tonight. He needed to ensure he remained within her good graces. Besides, he had tolerated the Death Eaters hatred of his brother for years -- what could truly be so different now? 

Bellatrix giggled, a high-pitched horrible thing, and said, “He might never be the same again, if I did my job right. Didn’t really know who he was by the time we let him go. He mentioned you a couple times, you know. I think he worries about you -- isn’t that cute?” More giggling. She paused and looked Regulus dead in the eye. “But we’re good to you, aren’t we, cousin?”

“Of course, Bella.” He emptied his mind, imagined himself watching clouds drift across a blue sky. Bellatrix smiled. "Now, tell me about my brother's lady-werewolf," Regulus said. He would ask Dumbledore later if Sirius was alright. He hoped Dumbledore trusted him enough to tell him the truth.     


	8. Ships Passing at the Hogshead Tavern

The Dark Lord did arrive that night, a few minutes before midnight. The wind had picked up outside, and snow blew against the window panes of the Malfoy’s manor. Regulus had been carefully counting his drinks, but Lucius and Bellatrix were completely sloshed by the time Severus Snape came through the floo to alert them that the Dark Lord would arrive shortly.  

“Good, you’re here,” Severus said when he saw Regulus in the sitting room. He looked at Lucius and Bellatrix, who were both slurring in not-so-hushed voices to each other, and grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.”  

Regulus shook his head. Severus looked even more tired than Regulus remembered, dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his mouth was drawn in a frown. “He wants to talk to the two of us,” Severus said. “Let’s get this lot upstairs so they don’t embarrass themselves. Where’s Narcissa? Is she in a state to receive guests?” 

“The Dark Lord, coming to my sister’s house?” asked Bellatrix. “An honour!”

“Narcissa already went up to sleep,” Regulus said, and he pried the glass from Bellatrix’s hand.

“We’ll wake her! It would be rude to not receive our guest,” Bellatrix crowed. 

“Merlin, Bellatrix, you’re in no state to discuss business with the Dark Lord. You’ll only embarrass yourself,” Snape snarled. Regulus felt that he himself was in no state to receive the Dark Lord, either, but for completely different reasons. He had let his defences fall as Lucius and Bellatrix became further and further inebriated. Now, he focused on clearing his mind of emotion. Of the fear of being found out as a traitor. He hadn’t expected to have to defend his mind against the Dark Lord himself, so soon, but he would do what he had to do. He had no other choice. This, at least, was what he told himself.  

Together, he and Severus coaxed Lucius and Bellatrix up to their rooms. Severus assigned Bellatrix to Regulus, and she tripped her way up the stairs and then shot a stinging hex at his foot with a cackle. Regulus wondered vaguely where Rodolphus had got off to, and how come he couldn’t collect his drunk wife. 

“What’s going on?” Regulus asked when the two of them had rolled the drink cart into the dining room and seated themselves at the table. 

“The Dark Lord will explain when he arrives,” Severus waved him away. “He wants your… expertise on a certain matter.” 

Regulus was a talented wizard, he knew this about himself, but he also knew that he was an expert in very few things compared to others in the Death Eaters ranks. An accomplished dueler, but nothing compared to Bellatrix; a persuasive elocutioner, but not compared to Lucius; a pleasant host, but atrocious next to Narcissa. He wasn’t sure what it was that drew Severus into the Dark Lord’s inner circle. He wasn’t blindly loyal like some of the other rabid followers, and he certainly wasn’t an idiot looking for safety among the ranks of the most murderous wizard to grace the planet. Regulus wondered occasionally if Severus was working his own agenda somehow, under the guise of a strategist for the Dark Lord. Or perhaps that’s all he was, a brilliant, young strategist who the Dark Lord enjoyed using to his advantage. 

Tonight, Severus seemed distracted; his gaze focused on a vague point in the center of the table, and he ran his finger around the lip of his glass in one smooth continuous loop. Regulus made a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, but Severus didn’t respond. So, Regulus allowed himself to become lost in his own thoughts -- considering the safety of his brother, the health of his mother, and his new sure-to-fail allegiance with Dumbledore -- until the Dark Lord arrived. Then, he locked those thoughts away into the safe chamber he had carefully constructed in the recesses of his mind. When the Dark Lord took his seat at the head of the Malfoy’s dining room table, Regulus met his eyes directly and unflinchingly.  _ I am with you, and I await your instructions. _

\--

Regulus left the Malfoy Manor, cloak wrapped tightly around him, hands clenched, but his face carefully neutral. As far as he could tell, he succeeded in betraying nothing about Horcruxes or changes in his allegiance. He felt lightheaded, and his head felt empty. He would get out of here, and then he would be able to think. He knew he couldn’t go straight to Hogwarts. That would be too risky. So he apparated back to Grimmauld place. Kreacher fussed over him and made a cup of tea. There was nothing for Regulus to do at home, though. Kreacher had it all under control. His mother was asleep, and Kreacher was preparing breakfast. 

“Master Regulus is tired. Master should rest,” Kreacher said. He made Regulus a cup of tea and ushered him into bed. Regulus’s mind was so exhausted from being empty, he couldn’t stop the onslaught of thoughts that ran through his brain now. “Kreacher will bring breakfast when Master has slept.” Even besides the events of that night, Regulus hadn’t slept well since he left Hogwarts. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, Kreacher,” Regulus said. He wrapped his arms around his own torso and held himself. Kreacher pulled out extra blankets from the cabinet and put them at the foot of the bed.  

“Kreacher,” Regulus asked. “How did you sleep? You know… after?” 

Kreacher bowed his head. “Kreacher will fetch Master Regulus a calming drought. Kreacher does not recommend a sleeping potion.” 

“Kreacher, please -- you don’t have to answer," he clarified quickly, "But I want to know…” 

“Kreacher has not slept well after drinking the nightmare potion,” the house elf’s gravely voice was only marginally above a whisper. Regulus’s eyes burned, and he felt nauseous again. He always felt nauseous lately. He had put Kreacher through genuine torture. Twice. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Kreacher. I’m so sorry.” He put his face in his hands, and he felt ever more like a coward that he couldn't face the pain he had caused Kreacher. 

“Kreacher is not upset with Master. Master Regulus saved Kreacher. Master Regulus was brave.” 

“It’s my fault you were there in the first place,” Regulus said. “I don’t want your forgiveness.” 

“Kreacher will fetch the calming drought.” 

“I didn’t mean to make it out of there alive. You were supposed to let me die, Kreacher.” Regulus was truly crying now. His nose dripped with snot. Kreacher materialized a handkerchief and passed it to Regulus. 

“Master Regulus did not make that clear.” Kreacher stood at the bedside with his hands on his hips. Regulus blew his nose. “Kreacher cannot disobey Master’s orders.” Kreacher stared at Regulus until he climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Regulus could hear him muttering to himself as he left the room, “Master Sirius told Kreacher to keep Master Regulus safe. Kreacher could not follow Master Regulus’s order without disobeying Master Sirius. Kreacher preferred Master Sirius’s order, though he is a filthy blood traitor.” 

“What?” Regulus asked. “Kreacher?” 

“Kreacher did not say anything he intended Master Regulus to hear. Will Master request that Kreacher repeat himself?”

"No, Kreacher, I'm sorry. Go on."  

\--

It wasn’t the first time Remus Lupin had encountered a despondent Regulus Black in a Hogsmeade alley.  However, it was the first time since Remus had finished his schooling at Hogwarts that he had seen Regulus at all. The sun had set as Remus descended from Hogwarts into the small village, and he spent an unknown amount of time sitting on a bench facing the entrance to the Hogshead Tavern, debating whether or not to go in. He thought it might be worth it to have a drink and see if he overheard anything, but he also knew that he was probably only considering this as a strategy to avoid going back to the Potters’. Then, he spotted a hooded figure in the alley, curled up and sitting in the snow, with his back against the brick wall of the Hogshead.

Looking at Regulus was like looking at Sirius in an alternate universe, and perhaps that’s what spurred Remus to approach him. If it were any other member of the Black family, he would’ve sounded the alarm and apparated the fuck out of there. But somehow, he thought that he and Regulus had an understanding, if only because they had met under eerily similar conditions before. He grasped his wand firmly under his cloak and approached the boy. 

“How long have you been out here?” Remus asked. He kicked a foot full of snow at Regulus, who didn’t move. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to approach a known Death Eater in a dark alley at night?” Regulus said, forcing some malice into his voice. “I never took you for an idiot, Lupin.” 

“Yeah, well, suppose we don’t know each other too well then, do we?” 

Regulus looked up at Lupin, standing tall and too thin in a ragged coat, gently illuminated by the streetlamp. “Thought you were Dumbledore’s man, eh? Shouldn’t he provide his soldiers with warmer clothes?” He got to his feet and dusted snow from his cloak. 

Remus sighed and looked over his shoulder toward the street. “I’m not the one who should be concerned about catching their death out here.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t you get on to wherever you’re going, Reg?” 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Right, well…” 

“And I’m certainly not going to go anywhere while you’re watching me.” 

“Perhaps we’re at a standstill.” 

Regulus scowled. “I heard my brother got into a spot of trouble.” He looked down at his boots. 

“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“Is he okay?” 

“What strategy would you recommend me taking here, Reg? Yes, he’s just fine -- expect your revenge to be served shortly or no, he’s dead -- died of injuries associated with torture at the hands of his very own family,” Remus paused to consider this further. “I suppose that could’ve been true five years ago, too, eh?” 

“I don’t want him dead,” Regulus said through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t think it’s within our side’s best interest for any of you lot to know whether he made it out in one piece.” Remus stared at Regulus -- Sirius’s same grey eyes -- and wondered what in Merlin’s name the both of them were doing here. “I do know that Sirius wouldn’t want you to catch your death in the cold out here. So go on. And if anyone dies in Hogsmeade tonight, I’ll know just who’s responsible.”

“Fuck you, half-breed,” Regulus spat. 

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Remus said. He walked backwards until he reached the street corner, keeping Regulus in his sight, then turned on the spot and apparated away. 

He went first to the site of his old apartment with Sirius, which indeed was occupied by new tenets. A wreath on the front door, warm light and music coming from inside. He could smell food cooking on the stove. Next, he apparated to a clearing in the forest near his childhood home, and finally, he apparated down the block from James and Lily’s house. He used the walk to their doorstep to cool down and prepare himself to see Sirius. It wasn't really enough time. 


	9. Reunion

Remus felt like his whole body was wracked with the shakes as he ascended the steps to the second floor of James and Lily’s house. The door to the guest room was slightly ajar, and he tapped lightly against it to announce himself. There was no response, but Lily pushed him gently forward and passed him the tray of food. Once Remus was fully inside the room, Lily disappeared back downstairs, and Remus was left to face an unconscious Sirius. 

Sirius was propped up in the bed, and he looked strangely serene, despite the purple bruising on his cheek and collarbone and the gash above his left eyelid, which was still red and inflamed. His dark hair fell to his shoulders and looked clean and soft. He looked overall, Remus thought, clean, soft and fragile. 

Soft and fragile were not words Sirius would use to describe himself, and they were not words that he would want anyone else to use to describe him either. But, Sirius was like an onion, composed of many layers, a little stinky, likely to make someone cry, and unexpectedly sweet -- a crusty exterior giving way to soft and tender innards. 

Lily had told Remus to wake Sirius and try to get him to eat. Apparently, food wasn’t of much interest to him, and he had been throwing up almost everything he was able to get down. But Remus was afraid to disturb this moment of peace, and he didn’t even know how to go about rousing Sirius without hurting him further. Lily also warned him that Sirius had been going through bouts of temporary amnesia. It might take him a while to remember who Remus was, or any of their shared history. If he remembered it at all. 

Remus put the tray of food on the side table and pulled the armchair closer to the bed. He sat down and after a moment of deliberation, held Sirius’s hand in his. His skin was warm -- alive,  _ thank Merlin _ . Remus realized newfound admiration for James, and Lily, too, for coming in here so regularly and doubting whether their best friend would recognize them. 

“What did they do to you in there, Padfoot?” Remus whispered, gently brushing his thumb over Sirius’s knuckles. “Want to wake up? I brought some food,” he forced himself to speak louder. He squeezed Sirius’s hand. He needed to get his shit together. His friend had done this for him nearly every month since they had found out he was a werewolf in second year. Sirius, in particular, had sat at his bedside during long days in the hospital wing, and had held his hand while Madame Pomfrey set his broken bones and stitched his skin back together. He owed it to Sirius to get himself together for this. 

Sirius’s eyes flickered open. After a moment, he focused on Remus. Cool grey eyes, thick dark lashes. 

“Hi,” Remus said.

Sirius groaned. 

“I brought food if you’re hungry.” Remus nudged the tray of food, and Sirius looked between him and the cup of soup and back at Remus. Neither of them moved. 

“Who--” 

“Oh, Lily -- she made the food.” 

“Are you?” Sirius’s voice was raspy, damaged from screaming, Remus supposed. He felt pain in his chest, from that manifestation of Sirius’s torture and from the question he had asked. 

“Oh,” Remus exhaled. “It’s -- I’m me, I’m Remus, er, Lupin.” He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. 

“You know him?” Sirius asked. 

“No, he’s, er, me.” 

Sirius shook his head and winced. “No, he’s just a little boy, 12-years-old. Constantly ill. A gangly waifish thing. You know him? You said his name.” His eyes had gone wide. 

“Okay, sure, yeah, I know him,” Remus said. He had an urge to reach out and touch Sirius’s hand. But he didn’t imagine Sirius, not knowing who he was, would appreciate that. Or, Sirius did know who he -- Remus Lupin -- was, he just didn’t know who he -- Remus Lupin -- is, in the present. Remus felt comforted by that sliver of recognition, but also unsettled. He felt a sense of relief that they wouldn’t have to rehash the events of their last meeting or the events of the last few months they’d been apart. There wasn’t an awkward reunion moment Remus would have to endure. At least not right now. But he hoped -- the thought made him a bit queasy -- he hoped that moment would come later, if only because it would mean Sirius was okay. 

“He needs help -- will you help him?” Sirius asked. He was so earnest; he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I bet he would, um, just want you to focus on getting better right now.” 

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I think -- bad things -- happen to him at home. Bad things. He needs help.” Sirius started coughing, a horrible hacking thing, and he gasped in air. 

“Okay, sure, I’ll help him, yeah,” Remus picked up the glass of water and placed it in front of Sirius. “Here, drink this.” 

“You’ll help?” 

“I’ll help.” 

“Good, good, okay, that’s good.” Sirius drank the water, hand shaking as he brought the glass to his lips, and a little dribbled down his chin. Remus took the water back and Sirius leaned toward him, put a hand on his knee. His grip was surprisingly strong. “He’ll say he doesn’t need help, but he really does, so don’t believe him. Okay?” 

“Alright,” Remus whispered. Sirius was looking just past Remus’s head, at the blank wall behind them. 

“He goes home once a month, and I think his -- he always comes back with… he always comes back hurt. And I think he’s… I think his parents hurt him.” Sirius looked back at Remus. “He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

“No one deserves to be treated that way, Sirius,” Remus said. He put his hand over Sirius’s, which was still gripping his knee. Sirius seemed to relax somewhat. 

“Especially Remus, though, he’s a really good person. The best.” 

“Hey,” Remus gently threaded his fingers through Sirius’s. He felt more grounded in this familiar act. This was his friend, it was clear, even though his timeline was a bit messed up. “I bet Remus feels really lucky to have someone like you doing such a good job looking out for him.” 

Sirius shook his head. “I’ve done bad things. I’m a bad person.” 

Sirius’s omnipresent undercurrent of self-hatred rarely presented itself so explicitly. Remus wasn’t sure how to proceed from here; if Sirius thought Remus was a 12-year-old boy, then did he also think that he himself was 12? Did he know where he was? Who Lily and James and Hemshaw were? 12-year-old Sirius was haughty around strangers and large groups, eager to push off opportunities for self-reflection, and very private. Present-day Sirius was not much different, but perhaps the difference was that Remus knew him better. The person before him was open, emotive. 

“Everyone has done bad things, Sirius, but you’re not a bad person,” Remus squeezed Sirius’s hand and tried to make his voice soft and gentle.  

“Are you one of those Muggle priests? Er -- reverends? Remus, my friend, he told me they come to deathbeds sometimes and help dying people go to heaven,” Sirius paused, searching Remus’s face. Remus loved being the focus of Sirius’s otherworldly eyes. “But don’t get your hopes up. I think I’ll go to Hell anyway. Or maybe become an Inferi. That seems like the worst way to spend eternity.” 

“Er, I’m not a reverend. I’m a friend -- of Lily’s and James’s... and yours.”  

“We know each other?” 

Remus nodded. “You’re one of my best friends.” 

“Oh,” Sirius looked down at their intertwined hands. “So you can’t save me from Hell?"

Remus shook his head. “Do you… remember me at all? Do you remember...anything?” 

“It hurt so bad,” Sirius said, squeezing his eyes shut. “I remember some things, sometimes, but then they go away. I’m sorry I don’t remember you. You seem nice."

“It’s okay, Padfoot.” 

“Maybe tomorrow... it’ll come back to me.” 

There was a knock on the bedroom door, and James poked his head in. “Prongs!” Sirius crowed, and Remus felt a pang of jealousy at the recognition.  

“I wondered if I could come spend some quality time with two of my best mates,” James said. “ ‘S not an opportunity I have all that often these days.” He crawled onto the bed next to Sirius and plucked a biscuit from the plate of food. “How come you haven’t eaten any of this yet, Padfoot? It’s not every day that Lily feels sorry enough for someone to make them biscuits. Take advantage of it while it lasts.” 

“She loves me the most, she’d make me biscuits anytime I asked.” Sirius disengaged his hand from Remus’s and leaned into James’s shoulder. 

“You wish,” James said and he ruffled Sirius’s hair. Sirius smoothed it back indignantly. James’s presence breathed a sigh of relief into the room, and Remus felt less pressure to do or say the right thing. He could let James take the lead. 

“Where did you find this nice bloke, Prongs? Says he’s not a reverend, so he can’t get me into heaven, but he will help keep Remus safe.” 

“Hm?” 

“Remember -- remember how I told you about Remus?” 

“Told me what exactly?” James looked at Remus and back at Sirius, confused. 

Remus cleared his throat. “Sirius is worried that your friend is being… abused… at home. Says he always come back hurt when he goes to visit.”

“Oh, right.” James cleared his throat. 

“This man says he can help,” Sirius yawned. “So that’s good. Where’d you find him anyway?” 

“Just turned up on our doorstep one day, mate, like a tired, mangy pup,” James threw a wink at Remus. “Thought we’d keep him around.”

“No,  _ I’m  _ the dog around here.” 

“Shh, mate, we don’t tell that to strangers."

“Whatever, you said he’s not a stranger, and he won’t tell, will you?” Sirius looked at Remus. 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” 

\--

Later, when Sirius had fallen back asleep, James and Lily and Remus were seated on the living room sofa. Harry snoozed against Lily’s chest, and James stroked the stubborn cowlick on his baby’s head.

“It’s not always like that,” James said. “He’d been asking for you just yesterday. It was driving Hemshaw up the fucking wall.” 

“Real me? Or 12-year-old me?” Remus asked.

“Real you, I think. Kept mentioning how he had something important to tell you and worried if you had died…”

“Oh.”

“Something about something that happened at a bar?”

“Oh.” 

“You want to tell me what happened at the bar?” James asked. 

Lily elbowed James. “Stay out of their business.” 

“I’m not really sure what he would want to say about that,” Remus shrugged. 

“I’ve asked Marlene to do some reading about memory potions or charms while she’s at work,” Lily said. “Maybe there’s something we can do to help him heal.” 

“He told me he saw me and Fabian snogging once,” Remus said. “That’s all.” 

“So that’s what you meant when you said that he already knows.” 

Remus nodded. 

“How’d he take it, love?” Lily asked. “Are you alright?”

Remus shrugged. “Don’t really want to talk about it.” 

“I’ll -- I’ll -- if he said something, I’ll tell him what’s what, Remus, I will,” James said. “Once he’s healed up and everything.” 

“Not necessary, Prongs. But I appreciate the sentiment.” 

\--

That night, Remus dreamt of Sirius again. In his dream, he was sitting on a park bench, watching Sirius, beautiful, whole, and youthful, chasing around two young children with dark hair and striking silver eyes. An older child -- Harry -- Remus realized, zipped around on a low flying broom, while James, Lily and Peter clapped from below. Sirius threw a quaffle toward Harry, who caught it with ease. The two younger children cheered, and then one of them tugged on Sirius’s sleeve and pointed at Remus. 

“Who’s that man, papa?” the child asked. 

“I don’t know, love, a stray dog, maybe,” Sirius said, looking at Remus. “He could be dangerous, so let’s leave him be.”


	10. Flashback to August 1980

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirius and Remus have an Important discussion that leaves everyone a bit unsatisfied.

**August 1980**

Remus had situated himself in their favorite booth in their favorite muggle pub. It was toward the back, away from the door, but close to the bar; just far enough from the toilets that they weren’t bombarded with traffic and the smell didn’t reach the booth, but close enough that the location was convenient. He checked his watch. He was late -- having just come from a meeting with Moody about his next assignment for the Order -- but not so late that Sirius would’ve given up on him. Besides, Sirius was always late, so this was nothing to be concerned about.

He had last seen Sirius a few days ago when they crossed paths briefly at the apartment they shared. Sightings had become rarer and rarer. Remus knew that Sirius often stayed over at James and Lily’s, regularly got lunch with Peter on the days Remus spent at Headquarters. It had occurred to him that Sirius might be avoiding him, but Remus only allowed himself to entertain that thought when he woke up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and unable to really stop himself. Or now, when the minutes stretched on and Sirius had not arrived. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all, or maybe he was wrangling others to come along with him so he wouldn’t have to be alone with Remus.

He pulled his book out of his jacket and proceeded to read the same paragraph three times before giving up. He looked toward the door and spotted Sirius, sporting a leather jacket and dark hair curling gently around his ears. Sirius cast a quick glance around the room -- apparently failing to notice Remus watching him -- and subtly tapped his wand against the jukebox. Queen’s _Don’t Stop Me Now_ came on, and Remus rolled his eyes.

This time when Sirius swept the room, his eyes did land on Remus. Sirius winked at him and approached, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. When Sirius slid into the booth opposite him, Remus could see dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a bit more tangled than usual, and he was a tad jumpy, bouncing his knee at a pace that was both very fast and erratic.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Never have I ever done a control room shift with Dumbledore before,” he said.

“Did -- did something happen?”

“Oh, no, it was just weird, that’s all.”

“How so?”

Sirius shrugged again. Remus studied him. Sirius studied his water glass. “Dunno how to explain it. Shall we get something to drink, then?”

“You go on,” Remus said. “I’m good with water.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’ll cover you -- what do you want?”

“Nothing. I -- I might have to go on a mission tonight. I don’t want to be smashed.” This wasn’t a complete lie.  

“Ah Moony, don’t you know that’s the trick to surviving a mission? Being a bit sloshed,” Sirius cracked a small smile at him, and Remus could not honestly tell if he was joking or not.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Padfoot.”

Sirius shrugged and approached the bar. Remus watched him lean over the counter and order something from a large bearded man. He flirted with the woman next to him, laughed at something she said, and bid her goodbye with a gentle hand placed low on her back. He returned with two beers and pushed one toward Remus. “Drink it or not, up to you.”

Sirius seemed to be willing to look everywhere except at Remus, and he seemed increasingly interested in the bar -- perhaps because of the attractive blonde sitting there -- and the door. “Padfoot,” Remus said finally, because he couldn’t stand to sit in silence with Sirius any longer.

Sirius flinched and focused on the beer stationed in front of Remus.

“Are you okay? Did something happen on your shift? Has something gone wrong?” Remus asked. He felt a horrible weight in his stomach as he turned over in his mind the possibility that Sirius didn’t want to be here, with him.

“No, I already said it was a fine shift.” Sirius took a large drink of his beer. “Is anyone else joining us?”

“Um, not that I invited. Why --” Remus wanted to ask him why he was acting this way. But he also might not want to know the answer. _Why won’t you look at me?_ “Are you angry with me?”

“What? No. Why would I be angry with you?”

“I... things have seemed off recently. I thought you might be avoiding me,” Remus pressed on.

“Just been busy, that’s all. You have, too. We’ve all got the Order.”

Remus nodded, but he was unconvinced.

“And just because you’ve got a break from your secret mission, that doesn’t mean I can drop everything and hang out whenever you want,” Sirius said, his voice rising.

“Right, of course not, I didn’t mean --”

“And I -- I never know when you’re going to be around, so I can’t _plan_.”

“Alright, Sirius, I’m sorry I suggested --”

“And I’m _here_ now, alright. I came like you asked me to --” Sirius cast another glance toward the door.

“Well, don’t stay on my account if it’s such a burden,” Remus said. “I just --” but he wasn’t sure he could speak without his voice breaking. At least Sirius wasn’t looking at him, so he wouldn’t be able to see Remus’s damp eyes. Of course, he couldn’t expect everything to be just the same when he had been away for so long. But perhaps he hadn’t expected to feel so much loss or grief when no one had actually died. Yet.

“You’re not a fucking burden, Remus,” Sirius muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. “Quit playing martyr.”

Remus felt stuck -- what could he possibly say to that? He wanted to shout back, to say something spiteful but he was drawing a blank. And really, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be with Sirius in their flat, listening to a record and sitting on the sofa together, shoulders brushing gently until they fell asleep, Sirius’s fingers tangled in Remus’s hair. But, Remus had arranged for them to meet here, because it was too easy to get out of spending time together if they didn’t do it in public. Sirius, when he had been home, had been disappearing to his room after short bursts of time spent with Remus, not to emerge again.

“Merlin, Remus _say something_. Don’t just sit there,” Sirius said.

“What do you want me to say?” He whispered.

“Don’t let me talk to you like this!”

“I didn’t realize we were fighting, Sirius. I didn’t know.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re very clearly fighting. People are starting to notice.” Including the blonde from the bar. “I’ll just go.”

“You can’t always leave when things are hard, Remus. That’s not an effective strategy.”

“I don’t know what you want from me! I just -- I asked you to come here because I missed you. Because we haven’t seen each other properly in I don’t know how long, and because I’ve got to leave again tomorrow. And you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be my _friend,_ and I swear to Merlin you’ve been avoiding me.” Remus took a breath. “Who are you to talk, anyway? Leaving when things are hard? You’re the one avoiding _me_.”

Sirius nodded, looking down at his hands, which were clasped around his beer glass. “I was.”

Remus was shocked at this admission. He wanted to reach across the table, untangle Sirius’s hands from the glass, and give him a squeeze. But he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Why?”

“It’s stupid,” Sirius said.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Remus said softly. This, _this_ , was what Sirius could do to him -- the power Sirius had over Remus that Remus was sure Sirius didn’t even realize. Sirius could turn Remus into a compliant puddle with just the tone of his voice. “Tell me.”

“I was -- I _am_ \-- hurt. I feel hurt.”

Remus’s heart clenched. “I’m sorry, Sirius.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You don’t even know what I’m talking about. You can’t properly apologize for something if you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Alright, you’re right. What have I done?” Remus braced himself for the answer.

“It’s my own fault.”

Remus clenched his fists under the table and willed himself to refrain from touching Sirius. The table was a decent barrier, but beneath the space beneath it was a danger zone. His feet itched to nudge Sirius’s boots, to provide some playful comfort, remind him of the times they would nudge each other when James made a fool of himself in front of Lily or Peter played dumb when everyone knew he masterminded whatever plot for which McGonagall was preparing to deliver punishment. If only he were shorter, or the booth’s bench was larger, then he could cross his legs on the bench and not have to worry about bumping Sirius altogether.

“Sirius,” Remus began, carefully controlling his voice. “If I’ve done something, I’d like to know what it is so I can try to fix it. I don’t want things to be weird between us, especially not right now when everything is so uncertain.”

Sirius slid his eyes up from his drink to look at Remus, though Remus got the sense that he was focusing more on the birthmark on Remus’s forehead than on Remus himself. “I found out …” Sirius cleared his throat and pushed his hand through his hair. “I found out your secret.”

Remus’s stomach dropped, and he tried to pretend that he didn’t know exactly which secret Sirius was referring to. And perhaps, he truly didn’t. People -- especially Remus -- had many secrets. And Remus had thought he had been so careful. But maybe Sirius had noticed Remus’s eyes lingering on him for too long (Remus knew he had a tendency to stare). Maybe Remus had been touching Sirius too much, too many brushes on his forearm (though Remus had scarcely been near enough to touch Sirius since he returned from his most recent mission). Maybe someone else had told -- Mason Petefish could be the type to squeal (but Remus had never seen Sirius speak to Mason in his life; he wasn’t even sure they knew each other).

“Merlin, that’s the most idiotic way to say something,” Sirius was saying to himself.

“You’re nothing if not dramatic,” Remus mumbled.

“I just mean, is there something you-- you’ve been wanting to tell me, maybe?”

Did he? Yes. But what could he possibly say? There were so many thoughts and feelings floating around in his head, about life in general, and Sirius specifically -- he hadn’t truly sorted them out for himself.   _I have these weird feelings I’ve been denying. I want to be around you all the time, but you don’t want to be around me. Why isn’t it easy anymore? My heart aches. It feels like it might burst, or something. Which is weird. I think I fancy you. Also, I’m going to live with the werewolves for an indefinite period of time, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I worry about you literally all the time._

“Um -- I don’t know, Padfoot,” Remus said. He traced a scar on the back of his hand instead of looking at Sirius.

“I s’pose it’s not about me, really, and I like to believe I wouldn’t say anything if there -- if I -- maybe I shouldn’t. I mean, your secrets are your secrets, right? That’s what James would say. But -- I haven’t told James, I swear.” Sirius took a deep breath. “I saw you,” another deep breath, “with Fabian.”

“Oh,” Remus said, but it was less speech and more a brief, surprised exhalation.

“A few weeks ago, that night a bunch of us went out in Muggle London. I was looking for you … to see if you were ready to go home … and you were snogging in the alley behind the bar.”

Remus remembered that night. It wasn’t the first time he had hooked up with Fabian. They had snuck away when everyone else was dancing. Remus distinctly remembered Sirius flirting with a muggle girl for the large majority of the night. And when Remus returned from his snog with Fabian, he had looked for Sirius, wondering if he was ready to go home, only for Peter to say that he had left a few minutes prior. The muggle girl was dancing with someone else now.

“Remus?” Sirius said.

Remus’s head snapped up, Sirius breaking his daze. “I don’t know what to say. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Because it’s weird?”

“No!” Sirius brought his open palm down on the table top. Remus jumped. “I wanted you to know that I knew, because I felt like I was keeping a secret from you, too.”

“Well, I can move out or something if you don’t want to flat with me anymore.”

“What? Remus, _no_. You’re missing the point. Absolutely missing the point.” He sighed. “You’re my best friend, nothing’s going to change that --”

“James --”

“Forget about James right now, he’s not important.” Sirius nudged Remus’s foot under the table. “I was feeling weird -- hurt, maybe -- that you were keeping something so big from me. I thought maybe you didn’t trust me, or --”

“I’m still the same person.”

“I know you are! You’re our Moony.”

“If nothing’s changed, then why won’t you be alone with me anymore? Why haven’t I seen you in -- in I don’t know how long?”

Sirius opened his mouth, closed it, and then took a gulp of his beer. “Did you miss the part where I said I was hurt that you didn’t tell me yourself? I thought -- I thought we told each other everything.”

“This isn’t about you, Sirius,” Remus said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but it’s not like… telling people you like blokes is something that earns you a hug and a slap on the back ten-out-of-ten times.”

“I _know_ it’s not about me.”

“You’re really working very hard to make this about you.”

Sirius' cheeks flushed a deep red, and he looked down at his hands, which were clamped together tightly. “It’s only that… it’s just that there’s a part of me…”

But just then, a set of palms slammed down on their table, and both of them jumped. Remus’s nostrils filled with the scent of sweat and… sewage?

“Thought I’d find you two here,” Peter said, forehead beaded with sweat and armpits visibly damp through his t-shirt.

“Merlin, Pete, what have you been doing?” Sirius asked. His voice shook a bit, but Remus watched the lines in his face smooth out, his expression changing mechanically from tight and cramped to calm and neutral. “You smell like literal shit.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets Order missions full of Polyjuice and glamour,” Peter rolled his eyes and shoved at Sirius’s shoulder. “Budge over.”

“Nuh-uh, go clean yourself off and then you can join.”

“Says you, who smells like a wet dog 90% of the time,” Remus said with a wink.

“Not when I’m enjoying the company of my friends!” Sirius did slide farther down the bench and Peter followed.

“Ah, so you reserve that particular pleasure for your flatmate.” This earned Remus a soft kick under the table.

“You drinking that, Moony?” Peter asked, reaching for the beer that sat untouched in front of Remus. “I could use a refreshment.”

“Go ahead.”

Sirius looked from Remus to Peter and back to Remus. Remus wondered if they were on the same page, because Remus very much felt that he and Sirius had left their conversation unfinished.

“Should we find a bigger table?” Peter asked. “I saw Gid and Fab and Marlene at Headquarters and they wanted to join.”

“Is no one out on missions these days?” Sirius asked with a huff, annoyance creeping into his voice. Remus tried to glare at him, but Sirius was strictly avoiding his eyes, drumming his fingers on the table.

“The calm before the storm, I bet,” Peter said with a sage nod. He seemed blissfully unaware that he had interrupted an important conversation, or perhaps he just didn’t care.

“Alright, let’s move. The big table is open,” Sirius grabbed his glass and pushed Peter out of the booth. “I’m going for another round; I’ll meet you over there.”

Peter made his way across the room and Sirius started toward the bar. Remus caught his wrist and Sirius flinched. “What?”

“Er, I just didn’t think we were done talking.”

“What do you want me to say?” Sirius asked, sliding into the bar next to the same blonde from earlier. “You made it pretty clear that I was hogging the conversation.”

“I want you to say --” Remus glanced at the blonde, who was definitely watching them out of the corner of her eye. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “I want you to say that you haven’t been avoiding me, that you aren’t disgusted by my mere existence, and that you still want to be my friend.”

Sirius’s face turned stormy. “I -- I -- look, I can’t talk to you about this right now.” Gideon, Fabian, and Marlene had arrived and were greeting Peter at the big table. Fabian noticed Remus at the bar and waved. Remus gave him a strained smile and hoped to a higher power that he caught the message that now was _not_ a good time to come over.

“Right, okay, so this is it, eh? You want me to move out? You --”

“What can I get you lads?” The bartender, now, stood in front of them. The blonde girl twirled her hair and cast glances at Sirius. Her friend giggled. Remus knew Sirius well enough to recognize that this girl had a chance for immediate reinforcement of her behavior, but would not qualify for an ongoing relationship with Sirius. Sirius enjoyed short flings with girls who were obviously interested in that sort of thing, but the only people he had dated for any considerable amount of time were girls who he had known, who he’d been friends with before anyone started flirting with anyone else.

“Ah, six pints of whatever you recommend on tap, please, and a refill for these two ladies.” The bartender nodded, and Sirius grinned at the blonde girl. “I don’t think I ever caught your name,” he said to her.

The girl blushed. “Susan, I’m Susan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Susan. I’m Sam. Now, I’ve a bit of business to settle with my friend here, but I hope I can catch you again later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” Susan said. Her friend giggled. Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Sirius gathered three of the beers and motioned to Remus to get the rest. “Let’s drop these at the table and then we’ll finish our talk, alright? And don’t underestimate Susan over there -- I know you are -- you should’ve heard her talk about politics earlier.”

Sirius told their friends they were going out for a smoke -- a blatant lie because Remus didn’t smoke and Sirius had quit when Lily was pregnant with Harry -- and pulled him out of the pub.

“That was the worst lie I’ve ever heard you tell,” Remus said. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and looked down at his feet.

“Yeah, well, I’m a touch nervous, alright.”

“What?”

“Let me talk, okay?” Sirius bit his lip. “Look, I’m sorry you thought -- I’m sorry you thought I didn’t want to be around you, alright?”

“What was I supposed to think?”

“That you were busy and I was busy…”

“So you _were_ avoiding me.”

“Yes, I was.” Sirius didn’t continue.

“Merlin, Sirius, this might qualify as one of the most painful conversations of my entire existence. Just say your piece, damnit, and we never have to see each other again if you don’t want.”

Sirius’s face, which had been tense with stress, fell. He put his hand over his eyes.

“That’s not at _all_ what I want, Remus. This is hard for me, too.” Sirius reached a hand out toward Remus, then seemed to second guess himself, clenched his fist and let it fall back to his side.  “I’ve fancied you… in the past… and I wish I’d have known. That’s all I could think when I saw you and Fab snogging. That I wish I’d have known and maybe things would’ve been different.”

“Oh.” Remus was at a loss for any other words. This was not at all what he had expected to hear. “In the past?”

“In the past, firmly in the past, but I guess I just wanted all of our cards out on the table and I wanted you to know that I ...like blokes, too… and, that’s all.”

“That’s all.”

“Right,” Sirius exhaled. “That’s all.”

“In the past?” Remus was hung up on the timeline here, and also quite surprised overall. Was Sirius specifying the past because he didn’t want Remus to feel pressure to reciprocate now? Or were his feelings truly gone now? Perhaps he should tell Sirius how he felt, too? But, now was not the time for a relationship or deep feelings, not when he was going away. Perhaps Sirius didn’t want that…

“And I hate that I made you feel like… like I didn’t want to be around you. Because you’re my -- one of my best friends. I never _don’t_ want to be around you.” Remus fought the urge to reach out and touch Sirius. He wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but he wasn’t sure what would be appropriate right now.

“Sirius, I…” Remus started, but Sirius cut him off.

“You don’t have to say anything, Moony. I just wanted you to know, I guess. And, well, I suppose I see now that if I was a bit more like Fabian, maybe I would’ve had a chance.” Sirius was wringing his thumbs, now, so hard that Remus wondered if he might accidentally pull one out of its socket. He glanced up at Remus and offered a slight upturn of his lips. “You know, giant, burly, woodsman casual and all, can knock someone out just by flicking their forehead.”

Remus chuckled. “Right, you’re just too gangly for me.” Gangly was not a word anyone would use to describe Sirius.

“Right,” Sirius smiled a true smile at Remus, now. “Look, come home, we’ll hang out. I’ll go back to normal, I promise. It won’t be weird anymore. Unless I’ve made it weird.”

“You haven’t made it weird,” Remus rushed his reassurance. “I’m relieved, if anything.”

“I haven’t told the others…”

“I won’t tell. I’m great at secrets.”

“True,” Sirius laughed.

“But, Sirius, I’m, er, leaving tomorrow, just -- so I can’t hang out. That’s er, why I had hoped to hang out tonight.”

“What? You just got back.”

“Yeah, well, the war never sleeps you know.”

“I’ll talk to Dumbledore, you can’t -- you deserve --”

Remus shook his head. “No --”

“Ah!” Fabian appeared next to them. Sirius jumped. “We were getting worried about you two. Considering neither of you smoke, and all.”

“Right, er, Sirius and I were just sorting out flat logistics,” Remus explained. “Since I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Still don’t know when you’ll be back?” Fabian asked. Remus thought he saw Sirius scowl.

“Right,” he tried to communicate nonverbally with Sirius. _Don’t freak out. Don’t leave me._

“Merlin,” Fabian wiped his hand over his face. “Sure wish Dumbledore --”  

“I’ll head back inside then,” Sirius said. He waved at them over his shoulder as he disappeared back into the pub. So casual. Like nothing groundbreaking had just happened.

“What’s his deal?”

“Just pissed at Dumbledore, like you,” Remus said with a shrug.

“But really, you okay with this, Re? The mission?”

“I’ve gotta be. Not sure what else to do.”

\--

Sirius went home with Susan, who was brilliant with Politics. Remus went home with Fabian, who fed him well and helped him pack his bag for an undetermined amount of time in the woods.

Sirius’s first owl found Remus a week later.

_Moony,_

_Thank you for hearing me out at the pub. I’m sorry I didn’t see you before you left. Talked to Fab; he said you didn’t know when you’d be able to come back again._

_Susan’s great. I might actually see her again. Prongs and Lilypad will send their own good wishes, but all of us are thinking of you. Harry in particular misses you. I can tell._

_Let me know you’re safe, yeah?_

_Padfoot._

\--

_Moony,_

_I had the supreme honor of supervising Neville and Harry together the other night, let their parents have a night off. I have forever endeared myself to them, the impressionable little tots._

_(Never do I ever want to have two infants at the same time. How did Molly survive twins? How does she continue to survive twins? I say that I came out in one piece, but I’m not sure I did.)_

_None of us have heard from you. Hope you’re safe. Hope you’ve got people looking out for you._

_Padfoot._

\--

 _Moony_ ,

_It’s my birthday tomorrow. Marlene is cooking dinner. Have you ever seen her cook? I don’t think I have. Do you think she might poison me? As retribution for everything I’ve ever done?_

_Hopefully she knows I’m an important player in the Order. We can’t go around killing each other off willy nilly (is that something people say? If anyone would know, you would)._

_I’m taking one of your books as a birthday present to myself. Send a finger or some other appendage so I know you’re alive. I won’t pay your ransome otherwise._

_Padfoot._

_\--_

_Moony,_

_It occurred to me that you could be avoiding my messages because you’re angry at me, or uncomfortable writing me. Actually, this occurred to me months ago, but this is the first time I’ve had the guts to write it down._

_Please know that I will do everything in my worldly power to make things right between us. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry I ever made you think I didn’t care about you, or that I hated you. Blame my upbringing. I don’t know how to handle my emotions._

_Prongslet misses you like a piece of his body is missing. Have you heard of “Phantom Limb Syndrome?” I’m sure you have. It’s like that, but his heart. How could you do that to a baby?_

_Padfoot_

_\--_

_Moony,_

_Come to Christmas at Prongs’s. We’re placing bets on whether or not you’re dead._

_For the record, I hope you’re alive._

_Padfoot_

  
  



	11. The Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus reports to Dumbledore for the first time.

Regulus watched Remus walk away, wondering if he was heading back to the Potters’ house. It had been idiotic for Lupin to draw Regulus’s attention. He had always considered Lupin to be the most intelligent of Sirius's ragged group of friends, a boy with enough sense not to intentionally invite danger and enough brains to successfully maneuver risky situations. Surely Remus had seen Sirius by now. Surely Sirius was there, at the Potters’, where Lupin was almost certainly headed now. What would they do with him when the Potters had to move? It was a horrible inconvenience to go into hiding while caring for an adult man who didn’t know who he was. Regulus wondered if there was a way he could look in on Sirius himself, but presently he could not think of a viable plan. It was probably for the best. That was precisely what the Dark Lord had asked him to do the previous night. Find Sirius, and then, he would find the Potters. He could’ve followed Lupin right to them, the idiot. Perhaps navigating this assignment would be more difficult than he had previously thought, if Lupin threw himself at Regulus’s feet in any future encounter.

He pulled a bag of candied ginger out of his cloak pocket and tossed one in his mouth. Kreacher had told him it would settle his stomach. Regulus remained unconvinced, but it was all he had at his disposal. When Remus was certainly well clear of Hogsmeade and apparently not popping back, Regulus pulled the hood of his cloak up and retreated into its shadows, obscuring himself as much as he could before entering the Hog's Head.

The pub was quiet, dusty and dark. A couple rugged wizards sat at the bar, sipping frothy beers. A man with short cropped hair and hulking muscle sat in the back corner table with a woman he vaguely remembered from school. She had graduated a few years prior to him, he thought. The man stared blankly ahead of him, eyes unfocused in a way that made Regulus wonder if he was, in fact, asleep. The girl was writing hurriedly in a small book. She nudged her companion, and he jumped violently. The collective room startled and took a long moment to settle.

Regulus took this opportunity of rustling clothes, people resettling into their daze, to approach the old barkeep. The old man’s face was deeply lined, and his robes faded into a muted green that was nearly beige. He watched Regulus warily.

Regulus cleared his throat and said, as casually as he could, “Fizzing Whizbees.” He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, and instead, stared the barkeep down as intently as he could. The barkeep grunted and nodded for Regulus to follow him into the back room of the pub.

“Albus told me you’d be comin’,” the man said, his voice rough and gravelly. “You oughta get a better disguise. Or any disguise at all. You don’t look like you belong in my pub these days.”   

Regulus wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead of saying anything, he popped another candied ginger.

They entered a shabby sitting room. The fireplace was cold, the upholstery on the seating was wearing through in places, and the coffee table was covered in a fine layer of dust. The central feature of the room was a large portrait of a young girl, who smiled faintly when they entered.

“This’ll take you up to the castle,” the barkeep said, and he tugged gently at the portrait’s frame. It swung open to reveal a stone paved tunnel. “Room of Requirement, some call it. You know it?”

Regulus coughed and cast a glance up at the barkeep. “Er, no.”  

“Well, you’ll figure it out. Albus will tell you how to get back.” The barkeep motioned for Regulus to step through the passage. “Go on now, I’ve got to get back to the pub. And I was serious about your dress -- get yourself some new -- er, different -- clothes before I see you again.”

Regulus stepped up into the passageway and had only taken a couple steps before the portrait swung shut behind him. It was cold, damp, and clammy. He drew his wand and whispered, “Lumos,” faintly wondering if he would be entombed in this passage forever. Still, the path stretched before him, and he walked.  

Eventually, he came upon a wooden door, which opened easily into a small cupboard, which opened into a 7th floor corridor at Hogwarts. He pulled his hood down over his face and hurried through the halls to Dumbledore’s office. This would work during the winter holidays, when the hallways were fairly empty, but it wouldn’t do to walk so plainly when term had begun. What would he do then?

He reached the stone gargoyle outside the headmaster’s office and murmured the password. The gargoyle turned on the spot to reveal the spiral staircase.

Dumbledore was seated as his desk, writing a note on a small piece of parchment. He looked up over his half-moon spectacles when Regulus tapped lightly on the open door.

“Ah, Mr. Black, please have a seat.”

This was the first time Regulus had returned to Hogwarts since he had left his sickbed. Outside the terror and confusion of his near death experience, being back in this room made him feel small again. It had only been just over a year since he had left Hogwarts as a student. The plush armchair across from Dumbledore’s desk was soft, and Regulus sunk into it.

“Tea?” Dumbledore asked, and Regulus nodded. Dumbledore put down his quill and waved his wand. A tea set from across the room floated toward them and landed on an empty spot on Dumbledore’s desk. The tea pot poured two mugs of peppermint tea while Dumbledore finished his note. He added it to a small stack at the edge of his desk.

The whole room, lit by a warm fire, warm tea in Regulus’s hands, felt incongruent with the news he had to deliver. He scanned the room, looking for any sign of the locket he had delivered here just over a week ago. It was not in plain sight, and Regulus felt naive for thinking it might be visible. Had Dumbledore destroyed it yet? Did he know how?

When Regulus seemed to have Dumbledore’s full attention, both of them with warm cups of tea in their hands, he spoke. “I -- I have news to report.” Regulus faltered under Dumbledore’s even gaze. This was nothing at all like talking to the Dark Lord, and while Regulus couldn’t pinpoint why exactly, he wondered if it had something to do with the arrangement of the room, the large desk between them, and Dumbledore’s bland smile that had him feeling like he had reverted back to a scared school child.

Regulus had sat across from Dumbledore in this room relatively few times -- especially, he imagined, compared to his brother. The most memorable of which had occurred in his fifth year, when he was a newly appointed prefect, and his brother had recently left home. He had sat in this very chair, with Phineas Nigellus looking on, and Dumbledore asking him if there was anything he needed to discuss with a professor.

No, he had said. There was not.

“To be truthful, Mr. Black, I had not expected to see you again so soon,” Dumbledore said now.

“I -- something happened. It’s important.”

“It must be, my dear boy, you seem quite shaken.” Dumbledore cocked his head to one side and took a sip of his tea. Regulus felt insulted at this observation. He prided himself on his composure. If he couldn’t keep it together now… is that why Lupin had stopped to talk to him in the alley? Had he noticed something off? “Go on then, when you’re ready.”  

“I was at my cousin’s -- Narcissa’s -- home last night,” he said, starting with the easiest piece of news to deliver. “At midnight or so, Severus, er Severus Snape,” he looked up at Dumbledore, who nodded for him to continue. “Severus arrived and said that the Dark Lord was on his way to the Manor. We met him, Severus and me. The others had, er, had too much to drink. But I was sober.”

“Wise choice, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said.

“Er, thank you, Professor,” Regulus was beginning to feel lightheaded. Perhaps he would pass out. Perhaps he could just pass this memory to Dumbledore through Legilimency. Surely Dumbledore was a Legilimens. But Dumbledore just looked expectantly at Regulus, so he took a moment to organize his thoughts, and pushed onward.  

“The Dark Lord said that he had … received intelligence that there was a prophecy made about himself and a baby. He said that a baby had been born to the, er, to the Potters, sir. James and Lily. He believes that the baby has the power to defeat him, and so he’s planning to kill the child.”

Dumbledore nodded. “So I had feared.”

“You _knew_ about this?”

“I did. I’m afraid that the prophecy of which you speak was originally delivered to me. My associate at the Hogshead apprehended an eavesdropper that evening.”

“Severus,” Regulus supplied.

“You are correct,” Dumbledore sighed. “So it seems that Voldemort has chosen his adversary at last.” Regulus stiffened at Dumbledore’s casual use of the Dark Lord’s name. “But -- and correct me if I’m wrong -- Lord Voldemort does not call meetings with a select few of his followers simply to update them on a new foe.”

“Right, Professor.”

“I expect I could take a somewhat accurate guess on this matter. But nevertheless, why did he request your presence, Mr. Black?”

“He wanted me to tell him about Potter, er, James. Or even Sirius, because he knows they’re close. He asked me to ‘look into’ my brother and his friends. It was strange, Professor. He didn’t seem very interested in James at all. He really wanted to know about Sirius.”  

“I expect he recognizes that Sirius may prove to be a major obstacle in accessing the Potter family,” Dumbledore said. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth. That I haven’t spoken to my brother in years. But I told him I would try to find out what I could.”

“Did he ask Severus about Lily?” Dumbledore asked.

“How did you…?” Regulus blinked. “Severus asked the Dark Lord to spare Lily’s life.” This was the part that still confused Regulus, no matter how many times he had replayed it in his mind. “And the Dark Lord agreed -- he said he wouldn’t kill her ‘unnecessarily.’”

Dumbledore seemed unphased.

“And then, outside the Hogshead, Lupin practically threw himself at me. I could’ve easily followed him straight back to the Potters,” Regulus tacked on for good measure. Dumbledore should know that his Order members were likely to make idiotic decisions that could lead to the death of themselves and their friends.

Dumbledore’s mouth twitched at this, and Regulus thought he might’ve huffed a small laugh. “I expect Mr. Lupin has a lot on his mind. But still, you are correct, his actions were unwise.” Dumbledore reached for a new piece of parchment and dipped his quill in an inkwell. “Now,” he said as he began to scratch a note. “I will send for James and Lily immediately, so we can make plans for their continued protection. However,” he paused as he wrote a few lines on the parchment. Then he added it to the stack on the edge of his desk. “However, we also must discuss the intelligence that you will deliver to Lord Voldemort. We need to ensure that you remain a trusted confidante.” He stroked his beard as he considered Regulus. “Do you have any ideas?”

“No sir. Er, I suppose I could actually follow Lupin again if he slips up.”

Dumbledore did chuckle this time; he smiled at Regulus over his half-moon spectacles. “I have two thoughts. I think I might ask you to act on them both.”

Regulus nodded and bit a piece of dry skin off his lip.     

“First, are you familiar with a young woman named Holden Hemshaw?”

“No, sir.”

“I expect she’ll be visiting Borgin and Burkes’ in Knockturn Alley this coming Friday. Will you meet her there?”

“Yes, sir. But --”

“Just be yourself. Introduce yourself honestly. Do not disclose your alliance to myself or to the Death Eaters. I’m interested in knowing what she tells you. So, please return when you make her acquaintance.”

“Who is she?”

“An associate of your brother’s, but beyond that -- I’m interested in your impressions, which may be helpful in gathering information to deliver to Lord Voldemort.”

Regulus nodded his understanding. He wanted to eat another ginger candy.

“Good, now, when you’ve met with Ms. Hemshaw, return here, and I will give you information about Lily and James’ whereabouts. I will ensure that they are safe and that you have useful intelligence for Lord Voldemort.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any other information to share?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, sir,” Regulus paused and looked at his hands. "But, I wanted to ask about Sirius. I heard he had been hurt." 

“Sirius is in recovery, I am told. I'm afraid I don't have more information than that." This was, frankly, not enough for Regulus after he had gone through the anxiety of navigating himself here to Dumbledore and reporting intelligence that would be used to subvert the Dark Lord, but he wasn't sure how to convey that to the smiling old man sitting in front of him. So, he said nothing. "However," Dumbledore continued, "I do have something that should help your travels to and from Hogwarts in the future. You won’t need to use the Hogshead passage.” He pulled a shimmering swath of fabric from beneath his desk and passed it across the table to Regulus.

“What is this?” Regulus asked, running his fingers across the soft velvet fabric. It shone unnaturally silver and black and in the flickering candlelight.

“An invisibility cloak,” Dumbledore responded simply.  

“Sir, pardon the offense, but these are notoriously unreliable.”

“Ah, true, Mr. Black. All but this one exception. This cloak has not failed in -- hundreds of years, I suspect.”

Regulus unfolded the material and draped it over his lap. Though he should’ve expected it, he still startled when his legs disappeared and he was looking only at the plush chair beneath him.

Dumbledore smiled. “I think you’ll find it satisfactory.” He began shuffling papers on his desk, flipping through the pile of parchment he had been collecting.

Regulus understood that their meeting had come to an end, and stood to leave.

“Have you been in contact with Ms. McKinnon?” Dumbledore asked before Regulus reached the door.

“No, Professor.”

“I recommend it. It doesn’t do well for anyone to travel such a treacherous path alone.”

Regulus nodded. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll send her an owl.”

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Black.”   

Regulus popped a candied ginger in his mouth before he descended the spiral staircase, covered himself in the invisibility cloak, and left the castle and then the grounds without encountering another living soul.  

 


	12. Home Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lily and James are summoned to Hogwarts, and Remus is left to supervise Harry and Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: death of a child (not a main character). Blood.

The owl for Lily and James came early in the morning, which Remus was beginning to see as Dumbledore’s pattern. Lily was collecting tea and toast and jam, bumping into too many things, as James stared out the kitchen window. 

“Why’re you being useless, James?” Remus asked, having woken up to the sound of frantic movement in the kitchen. 

“There’s nothing of use to do, mate,” James said with a shrug, and he pushed the piece of parchment into Remus’s hands. Remus skimmed it quickly, but like all of Dumbledore’s missives, it was frustratingly vague. 

“He’s not sending you out at the same time, is he?” Remus asked, reading it again, trying to glean some meaning from it. 

“He had better not!” Lily said, slamming a cup down so hard on the counter that Remus wondered if it might have cracked. “He knows better… he told us he wouldn’t.” 

“He did,” James nodded. He took the note back from Remus and looked at it blankly. 

“What are we going to do with Harry?” Lily asked; she pushed a cup of tea into Remus’s hands. “We can’t take him with us. And we... we can’t leave him here.”  She glanced at Remus, who was examining a chip in the tiled floor. 

He knew what he had to do, and he was terrified to do it. At least he could rest assured that James and Lily would be terrified, too. “I can take care of him.” 

James’s head snapped up. “You can?” 

“Sure,” Remus shrugged.

“Don’t be so aloof about it, mate.” James swatted at him with Dumbledore’s summons. “He’s a baby. He’s literally the most important thing in my life.” 

“Don’t let Sirius hear you say that,” Remus mumbled and dogged another attack from James.

“What  _ about _ Sirius,” Lily said. “We can’t leave you here with both of them. It’s too much.” 

“Sirius sleeps a lot, doesn’t he? I’ll do it. You shouldn’t be the only one who takes care of people, Lily. Even though you’re wonderful at it.” 

“Don’t kiss up to her,” James said. 

“I like some kissing up every once in a while. Add it to your areas for improvement, James.” Lily leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ll make you a list, Remus. Of everything to do.” 

“What if we’re gone longer than just today?” James asked. 

“Honestly James, you chose Sirius for godfather. You have low standards for basic childcare skills. We’ll be fine,” Remus said, trying to make his voice light. He hoped he didn’t come off sour. He hadn’t meant it that way.  Lily had found a roll of parchment and was frantically scribbling notes on it. 

“You have your own assignment, is all. That’s what I meant,” James said.  

“If you’re not back by tomorrow, I’ll write Dumbledore and ask for my books.” 

“What if we’re not back by the full moon?” James asked. 

And there it was. The quiet reason he hadn’t even been considered for godfather. His rational voice would say that it had always been James and Sirius -- they were brothers; of course, Sirius was the choice. But his irrational voice always came back to the werewolf issue. Dangerous. Untrustworthy. A logistical nightmare. 

It would always be James and Sirius. 

Remus looked away from James. “I’ll get Peter. Or Marlene. Or literally whoever you want.” 

“Marlene,” Lily said, not looking up from her writing. “But it will be a non-issue. I refuse for both of us to be away that long.” 

“Hemshaw will throw a fit when she finds out about this,” James said, finally. Remus flipped him the bird. 

____

And so, Lily and James hugged Remus goodbye, leaving their dependents in his care for an undetermined amount of time. Remus spent the first hour or so after their departure pacing the kitchen. Then, he moved into the living room. Then, he remembered Lily’s list and began preparing milk for Harry. 

He brought Harry, a bottle, and toast into Sirius’s room. He was surprised to find Sirius awake, thumbing through a paperback book that Remus didn’t recognize. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Remus said cautiously, hoping that the term of endearment didn’t scare him off. Sirius looked up at them and smiled -- a wide, true smile. Remus’s heart beat so loudly he couldn’t hear himself think. 

“Moony?”

Harry squealed and stuck his hand in his mouth. “Can we come in?” Remus asked. His whole body felt shaky. But he couldn’t -- he wouldn’t -- pass out while he was holding a baby. 

“Of course.” Sirius closed the book. “Are you -- is it really -- am I?” 

“I brought you some food. If you can stomach it,” Remus said, He put the plate down on the bedside table and maneuvered the chair closer to the bed before sitting in it with Harry on his lap. 

“How --?” Sirius looked at Remus and Harry, then at the toast, and he grimaced. His body sank back into the bed like a dead weight and he closed his eyes. 

“Sirius?” Remus asked timidly. He reached his hand out, laid a few fingers on Sirius’s wrist, the hand that was still attached to the book he was reading. 

“Have I died?” Sirius mumbled. 

“Very nearly,” Remus said. He wasn’t entirely sure what Sirius meant. 

“You’re dead.” 

“I’m not dead,” Remus whispered. “I’m sorry you thought so.”  

“You’re dead. I prepared myself for it. I worked it all out in my brain.” His eyes squeezed further shut. “I forced myself to be okay with it.” Sirius slowly opened his eyes, and his gaze focused on Remus. He searched his face, and Remus felt self-conscious, even though Sirius had stared at him millions of times before this. They could practically have full conversations nonverbally, back in school. But Remus hadn’t seen Sirius, a real-life fully lucid Sirius, since August and his hurried confession in outside the pub. The rest of the night, Sirius had avoided Remus; he had flirted with that blonde, gave him a clap on the back when they parted ways. 

Remus shifted Harry’s weight on his lap. “Maybe you’re a Death Eater in disguise,” Sirius said. Maybe you’ve come for my secrets. My cousins -- my brother -- they know me too well.” His voice cracked, and Remus worried Sirius might cry. Remus would probably cry, if Sirius cried. And if they both cried, Harry might cry. And then everyone would be crying, and Remus was supposed to be in charge. 

“Do you remember what happened, Padfoot?” Remus pressed on, trying to make his voice gentle and soft. He had to know more about Sirius’s mental status. He didn’t want to traumatize him any further. “Do you remember being here, at James’ and Lily’s, for the past few days?” 

“Some, it’s fuzzy,” Sirius said. “It feels like a dream.” 

“Lily said you’ve been sleeping a lot. You almost got yourself killed, Padfoot.” Remus didn’t think that was the right thing to say, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“You’re one to talk,” Sirius said. “I thought you were dead.” 

“Do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate you,” he paused. “Do  _ you _ hate  _ me _ ?” 

“No, of course not.” 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” 

“I couldn’t.”

“You got them?” 

“I got them,” Remus sighed and slumped in his chair. Harry reached up and patted his face. Remus didn’t think it was intentionally comforting, more just exploratory. “I cut off contact with everyone, Sirius, not just you.” 

“I -- I know. I don’t think I’m special.”    

_ You are special _ , Remus wanted to say. He wanted to reassure him, to hug him, to feel like this was easy again. He wanted to feel reassured by Sirius. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now,” he said. “James will kill me if he gets back and you’re worse off than when he left.” 

“James is gone?” Sirius asked. 

“And Lily. You’ve just got me and Harry to look after you.” 

“Both of them? Gone together?” Sirius said, straightening up. “How  _ dare _ Dumbledore --” 

“We don’t think it’s a mission,” Remus hurried to interrupt. “They should be back soon.” Remus pushed the plate of toast onto Sirius’s bed. “Eat.” 

“Not hungry.” 

“I don’t care,” Remus said. He looked at Harry, who had grabbed hold of one of Remus’s fingers and was waving it around. “Do you care, Harry? Do you want your godfather to heal up big and strong?”  Harry smiled his toothless baby smile and cooed. “I think that means ‘yes.’” 

__

Sirius ate a full slice of toast under Remus’ and Harry’s supervision. Remus read a picture book out loud to Harry, and Sirius watched until his eyes drooped and he fell asleep. Remus took Harry downstairs with him, got him set up under a muggle mobile that had belonged to Lily, and dug out his notes from his last trip to the Hogwarts Library. 

He struggled to focus on his research; his eyes strayed to watch Harry bat at the baubles on the mobile and his thoughts drifted to a sleeping Sirius upstairs. He wanted to blame the war for the way they had drifted apart, for all the ways things had changed. But, he wasn’t entirely convinced that the war was at fault for all of it. Sometimes, Remus wasn’t sure who he was without the Order, without death and risk looming over him all the time. He absently waved his wand at Harry’s mobile, making the baubles dance and sparkle just out of Harry’s reach. Harry giggled with delight. 

Remus’ mind was firmly upstairs with Sirius, who was nearly dead, completely exhausted, sleeping more than he was awake. This wasn’t what he had imagined, those nights in the forest with the rest of the pack when he envisioned coming back to his friends. Against his better judgment, he often fell asleep thinking of what it would be like to return to the Order, to James and Sirius and Peter and Lily. But mostly Sirius. 

He had pictured sending an owl ahead to let them know he was coming. He would arrive back at their flat and Sirius would be there. And Remus would tell him that  _ of course _ , he fancied him a whole lot, that just thinking of Sirius was likely to make his heart beat out of his chest. He would say that he hoped he wasn’t too late. 

It was a lot easier to play this out in his mind than to do it in person. And he certainly couldn’t take this path now -- he was, in fact, too late. Sirius had a Hemshaw. And even if he didn’t, then he wasn’t completely lucid. It wasn’t a good time to bring anything up. And, the fact was that if he had wanted a chance with Sirius, he should’ve done something different at the pub that night. He should’ve said all those things then. 

Sirius still might die. And Sirius’ confession at the pub was  _ not _ an invitation for Remus’ declaration of love. Sirius had simply said that he fancied Remus  _ in the past _ . And the Past that was “ _ the past” _ then was even more in the past now. 

Merlin, Remus had to clear his head. He picked Harry up from the mat and took him upstairs for the nap indicated by Lily’s schedule. When he came back downstairs, he unfolded the Daily Prophet and read a story about how a ministry official had gone missing over Christmas. His wife was quoted saying she hadn’t seen him since December 23rd. 

Sirius still might die -- Remus' brain kept returning to this place. Today. Tomorrow. And Remus would know that it wasn’t his fault -- he would know that -- but he could barely stand seeing strangers die in front of him. How was he supposed to handle witnessing the death of one of his best friends? How had he ended up in this place? How had the world ended up in this place? How would he make it to the other side? 

He probably wouldn’t survive the war, if he was being honest with himself. 

Remus lowered his face into his arms at the Potters’ kitchen table, hoping to hide himself from the world. He jolted awake at the sound of a loud crash in the living room of the house. His head fuzzy with the early stages of sleep, he stumbled toward the source of the noise, wand drawn.

Sirius was crumpled at the foot of the stairs. Blood seeped through his shirt where Remus knew his chest wound was bandaged underneath.  His head lolled back against the wall and his eyes were shut. 

“Sirius,” Remus said, rushing to his side. He hesitated before touching him, worried that skin-to-skin contact would burn them both. His hand drifted up to push against Sirius’ neck, looking for a pulse and hoping to rouse him. “Sirius,” he said again. “Are you alright?” 

Sirius groaned and his eyes blinked open for a moment, steely grey.  _ Pretty eyes _ , Remus thought in his moment of relief. 

“Can you hear me?” Remus asked. He would have to move Sirius, but he was afraid to jostle him. Sirius’ eyes opened again, and this time, they fixed on Remus. Remus wasn’t sure if he saw recognition there, but at least he didn’t see revulsion or fear. “Hey, you’re okay, let’s get you to the sofa, alright?” 

“I --” Sirius’ voice croaked, but Remus shushed him. He lifted Sirius as gently as he could and tried to quash the fear that bubbled in his throat and stung his eyes. Sirius’s body was limp, and his dead weight was easier to lift than Remus expected. He felt lightheaded as he felt the blood from Sirius’ open wound soak through his own shirt. 

Remus wasn’t a stranger to his own blood and large wounds, but he wasn’t accustomed to witnessing his friends suffer. 

Sirius whimpered as Remus deposited him on the sofa. Remus summoned Lily’s first aid kit from wherever it was stored. He smoothed Sirius’s hair out of his face -- damp and stringy with sweat. (Sirius would be horrified if he could see himself now). 

“Hey, don’t go to sleep on me now, okay?” Remus said.  _ Smooth, calm, don’t let him hear your fear. _ Sirius’ eyes opened and focused on Remus again. “You’re doing really well. Does it hurt?” 

Sirius shook his head and winced. 

“Liar,” Remus said, smiling at him. He rolled up the front of Sirius’ shirt to expose his bandaged torso. He retrieved the gauze from the first aid kit, and then began to cut away the bloodied bandages. The large gash ran straight from his sternum to his belly button. The cut was so clean, it almost looked surgical, inflicted so purposefully. Remus swallowed his urge to vomit. He was relieved to find that the incision hadn’t torn completely open. Only some of the spellwork that Lily had used to heal it had come loose. 

He started with some of the healing spells he knew best to stop the bleeding, murmuring small, calming words to Sirius all throughout. He wrapped new gauze to Sirius’s chest as gently as he could. He found some no-pain potion in the kit and poured a bit of it down Sirius’ throat. He wasn’t sure if it would make much difference, but he figured it was better than nothing. 

“How’s that?” He asked, using a wet towel to wipe away some of the blood on Sirius’ chest. “I’m going to write to Marlene. She can come check my work.” 

“Moony,” Sirius said, his voice slurred. 

“But I think you’re going to be alright, okay? You’re going to be okay.” Remus wiped some of the dried blood away from Sirius’ skin with a damp cloth. “You’re so strong,” he whispered, smoothing Sirius’ hair. Screw his faked detachment. And besides, there was a very low likelihood that Sirius would remember any of this. “I’d just really like it if you could stay awake until Marlene can come, okay?” 

Sirius groaned. 

Remus scrambled for a piece of parchment and scribbled a note to Marlene, telling her in a very sloppy code that Padfoot needed help, come quick. He could only hope she was in a place where she could respond. He had to go upstairs to find the Potter’s owl, who nipped at him for waking her up. 

“Go on, hurry,” Remus said as he unlatched the window, and it was all he could do not to throw the bird into the outdoors. On his way back downstairs, he peeked in on Harry, who was still sleeping soundly, thank Merlin. 

“You awake, Padfoot?” Remus asked, gently shaking his arm until Sirius’ eyes flickered back open. He wasn’t sure what to do beyond this. “Let me look at your pupils -- did you hit your head?” They were the same size as far as Remus could tell. He thought that was a good thing. 

“Nice dream,” mumbled Sirius, and his hand patted around limply until he found Remus’ fingers. 

“Lucky you, huh?” Remus said, allowing their fingers to thread together. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Tell me about it.” 

“Mhm,” Sirius went quiet for a moment, eyes drifting shut. Remus squeezed his hand. “Moony was alive. Saw him.”

“I’m right here, Padfoot.”  

“Mhm. Love you, Moons.” 

“Love you, too, Sirius.” 

__ 

Remus had seen a lot of dead people by that point in the war. But he had only seen one dying person. 

Soon after he had joined the pack, their camp had been attacked by a team of Ministry Aurors. There had been a death reported in a nearby town the previous full moon. Remus knew it hadn’t been their pack; he hadn’t smelled human on any of them after they changed back, and he had been sure to check. This meant that the death had been fabricated, or it had been at the hands of a werewolf from a different pack. As far as Remus knew, they were the only pack for miles, and he had been sure to check. 

The Auror team was led by Evan Rosier -- Remus recognized him instantly from the years they overlapped at Hogwarts. He was suspected as a Death Eater by the Order. He was a skilled dueler -- his whole team was -- while Remus was one of the few formally trained wizards in the pack. 

Many of the werewolves had run. Adults apparated away with younger members of the pack, and those that stayed behind fought them off as best they could. It wasn’t a fair fight. Remus hoisted a 10-year-old boy onto his back, newly changed and recovering slowly from what was only his fifth full moon. He shot as many curses as he could at Rosier, who dueled him one-on-one. Members of the pack lay seemingly dead on the ground, and Aurors rooted through the remains of the pack, looking for “evidence,” Remus assumed. Remus wanted to stop them, wanted to check to see if anyone left had survived. But Rosier seemed to be aiming at the child on his back. So Remus faced him as he retreated and shot spells and hexes at him, all the while trying to stay upright as he moved over the uneven ground. 

Rosier shot a curse over Remus’ shoulder, and the child cried out, falling limp on Remus’ back. Remus stumbled, threw up a shield charm, and apparated away as quickly as he could. He splinched his own leg in the travel. He felt lightheaded and dizzy as he landed in the Forbidden Forest and became aware of the warm blood covering his whole body. It took him a disbelieving moment to realize it wasn’t all his own. The boy’s eyes flickered open and shut. Remus worked as quickly as he could to staunch the child’s bleeding, and then his own when he realized his work was affected by his splinched leg. 

He threw up wards around the tree where they sat. He wished he would have thought of a place more obscure, more distant in the countryside than the Forbidden Forest, where an unsuspecting Hogwarts student might stumble across them during a detention. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He took off his shirt and transfigured it into a blanket. The boy whimpered as Remus wrapped the blanket around him.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Remus whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 

Remus didn’t sleep that night. He held the child until he died as dawn began to filter through the leaves of the forest. He had tried everything he could, every healing spell he knew. He tried to conjure a patronus to send to Dumbledore for help, but only the barest of whisps emitted from his wand. And, Remus knew, even if he did manage a corporeal patronus, Dumbledore wouldn’t come. 

The dead boy in his arms was an innocent. He shouldn’t have tried to hit Rosier. He should’ve worked on evacuating the camp. He should’ve taken the boy and apparated on the spot.  

This -- witnessing death, fighting Death Eaters -- was what he had signed up for. Dumbledore would tell him just that, but perhaps not in so many words.  _ Muggle science tells us that every action has an equal, opposite reaction.  _

Remus didn’t know how long he sat underneath that tree. He cried, mostly, and must’ve fallen asleep. He dreamed a centaur appeared to him in the night and took the dead child in his arms. “Go on, werewolf. Give the child to the forest, now. His path has come to an end.” 

When he woke next, the boy was gone, and Remus was wrapped in his own shirt-turned-blanket, crusty with dry blood. 

  
  



	13. Borgin & Burke's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regulus *just so happens* to run into a certain werewolf in Knockturn Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If anyone's still out there, thanks for sticking around! I'm hoping to get back to writing more regularly now that it's summer!

Regulus knew the person -- Hemshaw, an Order member -- who Dumbledore wanted him to meet would drop by at some point that day, but that was all the specificity he was given. He spent the early hours of the day watching Borgin’s shop from underneath the invisibility cloak. Compared to Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley was eerily quiet during the morning -- especially these days, when everything was quieter. Regulus liked it that way. All of the regulars were asleep, preferring to conduct their business late into the night. Borgin, though, opened his shop early -- sometimes before 8:00 a.m. The only other open business was the 24-hour cafe a few units down the street. Regulus could see a couple figures moving around in the shop, and one person seated at a table near the window.

Absolutely nothing changed on the street for a good two hours, and when Regulus thought his brain might turn to mush or he would fall asleep standing up, he decided that stakeouts were not his preferred brand of spying. He stepped into a covered alcove to remove the invisibility cloak, in case there was, in fact, someone watching him.

Regulus frowned as he walked into Borgin & Burkes. The shelves were fuller than he remembered, stuffed with artifacts Regulus knew better than to touch. He had brought a few items from home to show to the shopkeeper. He and Kreacher had spent too many hours combing through Grimmauld Place, looking for things that wouldn’t be too dangerous in the wrong hands, but interesting enough to warrant Mr. Borgin’s attention for an extended period of time. His backup plan was to generate questions about Borgin’s existing stock, but considering that Borgin was generally a man of few words and Regulus didn’t typically enjoy socializing with him, he hoped to avoid using that plan.

Borgin shuffled from the backroom. “Ah, Mr. Black,” he said with a huff. “What can I do for you today?”

“I have some items I thought you’d find interesting.” He drew the small pouch, augmented with an undetectable extension charm and filled with artifacts, from within his coat. “Cleaning out the house, and all that.”

“I’m honored you thought of me, Mr. Black.” He motioned to the countertop, and Regulus began to unload his bag, slowly, one item at a time. There were a few old texts, first editions filled with old spells and potions recipes, complicated enough for few to be interested in undertaking them, but rare and deadly enough that Borgin would want to add them to his collection. One book, in particular, Regulus thought Lucius Malfoy would be personally offended he did not receive it as a direct gift himself. Then, there was a portion of his mother’s jewelry collection, charmed to ward off muggles and enhance the beauty of the wearer. These were precious not so much for their magical qualities, but for their history in the Black family. Narcissa might kill him if she found out he sold them to Borgin. There was a silver dagger, ever-sharp, and cursed to lodge itself permanently in the body of a victim until its owner retrieved it. A book on the psychology of magic, how to root around in people’s memories for the information you need, how to change people’s minds and bend them to your will -- a school of magic that turned out to be one of his mother’s particular favorites. He would be glad to rid his house of that text.

And so on. Regulus pulled an item from his bag, and Borgin studied it closely -- looking from the item to Regulus and back again -- eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. This man made Regulus feel uncomfortable.

Most people made Regulus feel uncomfortable these days, he reminded himself. And Borgin, all things considered, was a relatively tame individual. Just earlier this week, Regulus had sat at his cousin’s dining room table with the Dark Lord. This casual meeting with Borgin was nothing in comparison.

Regulus restrained himself from fidgeting. They were approaching the last of his things, and Borgin had commented on few of them. He didn’t know how much time he had left for this activity, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to ask Borgin to show him any items he already had in his shop.  He didn’t particularly want to know about Borgin’s stock, and he especially didn’t want to know about the items Borgin thought suited to sell to the heir of the House of Black.

Borgin had returned to the silver knife when he announced that he needed to fetch some tools from the back to examine it more closely. Only moments after Borgin had retreated into the back room, the door creaked open, and a rush of cold air flooded the room. Regulus shivered and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the newcomer. _Calm. Collected. Regulus Black does not get nervous._  A young woman, wearing a deep purple traveling cloak entered the store and glanced around. She held her body stiffly, chin slightly raised, eyes vigilantly scanning the room until they fell on Regulus.

She flinched. Regulus raised a cold eyebrow at her and tried to seem disinterested. “Are you certain this is where you’re meant to be?” he asked. He knew Lucius would’ve tacked a “sweetheart” or a “dear” onto the end of that question, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “This isn’t the right neighborhood for people who spook easily.”

After a beat the woman said, “This is exactly where I’m meant to be, thank you.”

Borgin emerged from the back room, still focused on the knife in his hand. When he looked up and saw the woman, he grunted, “And who are you?”

“Holden Hemshaw, Mr. Borgin,” she said. “We were in contact via owl.”

“Ah,” he paused. “Expected a man.”

“Hopefully my gender won’t be a problem for employment?” Holden said. “I still have all the requisite skills.”

Borgin grunted and considered her. “A test, eh? Mr. Black has brought some artifacts to sell me. Price them.” He beckoned her to step behind the counter. She followed, casting a glance at Regulus as she went.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Borgin, please, I hadn’t planned to spend all day here. I don’t have time to train your staff.”

“I won’t take long,” Hemshaw said, reaching toward one of the Regulus’s books on the counter.

Regulus huffed. “Fine, but if I run out of patience, I’ll take my things and go.” He shot what he hoped was a meaningful look at Borgin, who simply grunted, dropped a pair of gloves in front of Hemshaw, and retreated to the stockroom. Regulus and Hemshaw were left alone. Regulus watched as Hemshaw tugged on the gloves and began inspecting one of the books.

“You know,” Regulus said, “I hope the Order didn’t send you here as a double agent.” He watched her carefully for a reaction.

“Hm?” She didn’t look up at him, but Regulus thought he noticed an increase in tension in her shoulders.

“I heard my brother got into some trouble with our cousins last week.” He leaned against the counter. “I also heard he had a new pet.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Oh please,” Regulus said. He felt a bit of true annoyance creep into his brain. “I’m not an idiot, and neither are you. Let's talk to each to each other like adults.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “If I know my brother, he wouldn’t associate with anyone likely to be on the other side -- which you must know -- looking for work at this fine establishment does suggest that you’re on the other side, or at least that you want to _seem_ like you’re on this side.”

Hemshaw -- finally -- raised her gaze from the book to meet his eyes.

“And my brother, despite my opinions about his life choices, is also not an idiot.” Regulus sighed. “So this leaves us with a few different options. You have been sent here by the Order to spy on people like me -- law-abiding citizens simply going about their business, I might add,” he ticked the options off on his fingers. “Alternatively, you’re working for the Dark Lord as a spy in the Order. But if that’s true, it’s awfully bold of you to turn up here -- such a public place -- looking for work. So then, it’s possible that the Order thinks you’re a spy for them, when in fact you're spying _on_ them. In that case, the Order might think it advantageous to place you here.”

“Perhaps I just need a job,” she said.

“That’s fair, it _is_ awfully hard for half-breeds to get work these days.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Regulus tisked. “Ah, unfortunately for you, that’s not true.”

Hemshaw had abandoned all pretenses about studying the artifacts in front of her. She made steady eye contact with him, perhaps as a show of bravery. Regulus wondered if she had any occlumency skill, if it would be worth it to attempt a poke around in her mind. Had she seen Sirius lately? Could he get any information out of her?

“Your name is Holden Hemshaw, age 22, werewolf. Bitten at age 17, homeschooled by your aunt, a Ms. Wilhelmina Hemshaw, until you were bitten, at which time she kicked you out of her home. Out a bit too late on your own, one night, and bitten by a mere pup. Questionable judgment, eh? Your skills include above average offensive dueling techniques, below average defense.” Regulus paused and smirked at her before continuing. “You’re romantically involved with my dear older brother, Sirius Black, known Order member, pursuer of vigilante justice. You were seen at the home of Bellatrix and Rodolphus LeStrange on December 23rd and 24th, at which time Sirius was captured. Against what should have been his better judgment, he was spying on our cousins. They like their privacy, you know. You, along with the Prewitt brothers, retrieved him after a solid 24 hours of torture, when Bellatrix got bored. Word on the street is that Sirius won’t be the same again. Sirius is now in the care of Lily and James Potter, and the werewolf Remus John Lupin, who recently returned from living amongst your kind for several months.”  Hemshaw frowned at the mention of Lupin.

“Don’t like Lupin much, do you?” Regulus observed. Hemshaw opened her mouth, didn’t say anything, and then shut it again. “I’m surprised. You two have a lot in common. Might be worth it to have a chat with him. But when you do, perhaps you could recommend that he not approach suspected Death Eaters in broad daylight. Could send the wrong message. Or get people killed,” he shrugged. “I always did think he was the brightest of that bunch of idiots. But I’ve been wrong before, and I’ll be wrong again.”  

Hemshaw cleared her throat. “I need to report my estimate to Mr. Borgin.”

“Right, of course, don’t let me keep you.” He waved her away.

A few minutes later, Hemshaw returned with a bag of coins, stiff, and face carefully blank. Regulus again considered poking through her mind, but something stopped him. Perhaps because he was fairly sure they were on the same side, and he owed her that common courtesy. Perhaps he was just tired.

He took the bag, counted the coins and nodded. “Seems fair to me.” He turned to leave, but paused and said, “I did want to ask about my brother, though. I thought you might have an update?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Black,” she said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll inquire elsewhere,” he huffed, wrapped his cloak around him, and left the store.

When he returned home, Kreacher made him a cup of tea, and Regulus retired to his room. He felt exhausted, like his body had exhaled all of his strength with the tension he held at Borgin’s shop. But his mind refused to let him sleep, instead replaying the nauseating, suffocating cold of the cave in the sea.


	14. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James cries, Peter is grumpy, and there is much packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for a homophobic comment at the end of the chapter.

Marlene arrived promptly. Remus thought she looked like she hadn’t slept in a considerably long time. Her eyes were rimmed with dark shadows, and her hair was greasy and unwashed. But she patched up Sirius with grim determination, muttering about what an idiot he was the whole while. 

When she was finished, she recruited Remus to help her move Sirius back upstairs. Carrying Sirius felt wrong, intimate and trusting in a way that Remus didn’t feel he deserved. Sirius mumbled about how much he loved them both, how beautiful Marlene looked. 

“Like a glowing angel,” Sirius slurred. 

Marlene rolled her eyes as she tucked blankets around Sirius. “That’ll be the pain potion talking,” she said. “I’m going to put Harry to bed. Will you finish up here?” she put a firm hand on Remus’ shoulder and smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Remus wasn’t sure what was left to do with Sirius, but he stayed behind, sat on the bed beside Sirius until he fell asleep. 

“You’re beautiful, too, Moony,” Sirius said. 

“Okay, Padfoot.” Remus restrained himself from taking Sirius’ hand. Instead, he patted Sirius’ shin awkwardly. 

“‘S true, ‘s why you’ve got so many suitors.” 

“Have not,” Remus whispered.  

“Have so,” Sirius exhaled. “Don’t leave, alright? I have more to say to you, but right now...” 

“Get some sleep, alright?” 

“We’ll talk more later.” 

“Sure.” 

This seemed to satisfy Sirius enough that his body relaxed, and Remus watched Sirius’ eyes drift shut. Remus waited a minute more for Sirius’ breathing to even out before he left the room. He peaked in on Harry, who was sound asleep in his crib and went downstairs to find Marlene, who was seated on the couch, a bottle of wine on the coffee table, her head in her hands. She looked up at him when she heard him on the stairs and smiled that tired smile, patting the couch cushion next to her. 

They didn’t say much.  Remus poured them each a glass of wine, and they allowed themselves to lean into each other’s soft warmth, until a crack outside the door alerted them to Lily and James’ return. 

___

 

After they exchanged security questions, Marlene pulled out two more glasses for wine, and Lily and James went in to look at Harry. When they came back down, James was wiping his eyes, and Lily was rubbing circles on his back. 

“We have to start packing,” James said. “Where are our trunks? Can we fit everything in trunks?” 

“What?” Remus asked. 

“We’ll just shrink everything, and it will fit, right? How did we end up with so much shit?” 

“Slow down, James,” Lily said. “Let’s have a sit, first.” 

“I know, we’ll just do an undetectable extension charm. Maybe a couple, a few. You’re good at those, Lils.” He began pulling books off the bookshelf. 

“James.” She tugged on his hand.

“Every _fucking_ thing is falling apart. Sirius is dying, Voldemort wants to _kill_ my infant child, I -- you -- we haven’t seen you in years --” He looked at Remus and then jerked away. 

“ _James_ ,” Lily’s voice rose again. She stamped her foot and squeezed her eyes shut. “God help me.” 

“We are all going to die,” James whispered. He allowed Lily to pull him onto the couch. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his shoulders. “This is how it ends; he finds us, and we all die.” 

Remus couldn’t find it in him to disagree, to contradict James, as much as he wanted to. “Can you tell us what’s going on, mate?” 

James shook his head. But Lily told them -- that Voldemort had decided to target Harry, because some random prophecy foretold that Harry would be his downfall, and that the Potters would need to move, immediately, go into further hiding, because it wasn’t exactly a secret that they lived here. Marlene sat at Lily’s feet and held her free hand. She looked increasingly distracted, glancing out the window like she was expecting to see something out there. 

“We found a place after we met with Dumbledore, got everything sorted,” Lily said finally. “We’re going to make the move tomorrow.” She cast a glance at Remus with worried eyes. “It’s small, but we can make it work.” 

Remus nodded, his heart heavy with understanding. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay, Lils, don’t worry.” 

“No, mate,” James said, speaking for the first time in all of Lily’s story. “We agreed we’d make it work.” 

“James, I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you _can_ , Moony. Doesn’t mean you should.” 

Remus looked at Lily and James, trying to affect a stern gaze. He knew Marlene would be on his side, had she not checked out completely from the conversation by this point. “This,” he said, waving his arms around, “is more than anyone should have to deal with. Your family is in danger, your best friend is -- ill -- and it’s the very least I can do to take myself off your plate. I have places I can go. I want to _help_. But I don’t think I’m of very much help here.” 

“Remus --” Lily said. “I -- it’s good to have you around. I don’t want you to go.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m just saying, don’t worry about feeding and housing me. I’ll always be here for you.” His throat constricted as he finished his sentence, and he had to look away. It was true, of course. He would always come if they really needed him.

“Who would’ve taken care of Harry if you weren’t here?” Lily asked. 

“I imagine this specific scenario won’t be recurring any time soon, Lily,” Remus said. Besides, he wouldn't have been their first choice if other options had been available. 

“I imagine not,” James whispered. And with that, Remus knew they would let him go. 

__

 

Not much time passed before Marlene disentangled herself from Lily and said goodbye for now. Remus hugged her and squeezed her hand, hoping to provide some comfort through whatever fog was troubling her, but he didn’t think she really got his message. Lily and James went up to bed, and Remus laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to rid his mind of all thoughts. But James reappeared before Remus could be even remotely successful at falling asleep. 

“Can’t sleep,” James said. Remus sat up and pulled his legs into his chest to make room for James on the couch. 

“Fair enough,” Remus said. “Should we put on some tea?” 

“Would you help me start packing?” James asked. He followed quickly with, “You don’t have to, you can sleep.” 

“Prongs, of course.” 

“I just feel like a sitting duck, like we’re waiting for Voldemort to show up here. I can’t do nothing.” 

“Let’s pack then,” Remus said. He and James pulled out three trunks, and Remus placed undetectable extension charms on each of them. “You should do the shrinking charms,” Remus advised. “You’re much better at that.” 

Remus boxed up books by subject, labeling each clearly. He made a box specifically for things he knew belonged to Sirius. The leather jacket, the record player, a couple of books. 

Early in the morning, Remus helped James send out notes to the others. Marlene returned with Dorcas; Peter arrived shortly after, disheveled, sleep-drunk and demanding coffee, which Lily provided, and Gideon and Fabian dropped by around 10:00 to help with the larger parts of the move. 

Fabian pulled Remus into the bathroom and kissed his cheek. Remus was suddenly aware he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. “How’re you doing, Re?” He asked. “You never did send me that owl.” 

Remus shrugged, but he tugged Fabian in for a full hug. 

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping,” Fabian said. 

“Thanks, mate, that’s why I keep you around,” Remus mumbled into Fabian’s hair. 

“You know what I mean,” Fabian said, giving Remus a strong squeeze before they let each other go. 

“Um,” Remus started, “Once we get Lil and James settled, I was wondering…” 

Fabian smirked and raised his eyebrows. Remus realized he was going to make him ask. 

“Can I stay with you for a bit? At least until I find my own place?” 

“Course you can. Perfect timing anyway -- Gid and Dearborn are going out on a mission tomorrow. We’ll have the place to ourselves.” 

Just then, the door to the bathroom flung open, and Peter stood there, eyes wide and mouth open. “Oi!” he squeaked. “Wha--” 

“Hello there, mate!” Fabian said cheerily, waving at Peter and pulling Remus out into the hallway. “Knock next time, eh?” he winked. 

“You lot lock the doors next time,” Peter said, giving Remus a slight shove. 

“Did Pete just get a major surprise?” Fabian whispered conspiratorially. 

Remus sighed, “Yep.” 

“Honestly, I can’t believe you lot have managed to keep any secrets from each other.” 

“It’s easier than you would think.” 

There was a loud crash from the living room, and Gideon could be heard shouting “Sorry! Sorry! I’ll clean it up.” 

Fabian took Remus’ hand before they reached the kitchen, “Listen, if you need to get away or something today, let’s have a signal.” 

“What?” 

“It’s just -- seems like it could be a lot, not that you can’t handle it, but -- like, wink twice or something and I’ll feign a stomach ache and we’ll go for a walk.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Fab, thanks. Who knew you were a decent bloke?” 

“Aw, shut up, I have my moments.” 

“All I’m saying is that it isn’t obvious.” 

Lily assigned Remus and Peter to pack Sirius’ room. Remus felt like this was a supreme invasion of privacy, but Peter seemed to feel it was a supreme annoyance. “He always did manage to get us to do all his work for him, in school, too,” Peter muttered. 

“He’s bedridden, Wormy,” Remus said. He opened the door to Sirius’ room, and found Sirius with his breakfast plate on the side table, hair mussed, asleep, and drool leaking from his mouth. “See?” 

“Doesn’t look much different than usual to me.” Peter shrugged. Remus couldn’t argue with that; Sirius, asleep, looked strangely young and reminiscent of his Hogwarts days. Remus could almost pretend that they were back in their dormitory, and Sirius had fallen asleep while eating midnight snacks from 

Remus restrained himself from smacking Peter on the back of his head. He pulled Sirius’ trunk from the closet, and flicked it open, considering whether he needed to place an undetectable extension charm on it. Inside there was a mess of parchment and broken quills and a stack of photographs that Remus recognized as being taken near the end of their seventh year at Hogwarts. There were a few shots of the four of them, perhaps taken by Lily or Marlene, and Remus paused to flip through them. Below that were pictures taken at Lily and James’ wedding. Sirius and James posed together in a variety of goofy arrangements. Sirius holding James, who was altogether taller and larger than Sirius, in his arms, like they were the ones just married. In the photo, James winked at the camera and leaned up to kiss Sirius on the cheek. At the bottom of the stack was a single picture of Sirius and Remus, seated next to each other at the base of a tree, their dress robes disheveled, drinks in their hands. They looked at the camera and smiled. When Sirius went to take a gulp of his wine, photo-Remus looked over at him, and Remus was embarrassed at the level of tenderness he saw in his own face. He felt exposed; had he been so obvious, all this time?

“Oi! Can we start dumping things in there, or what?” Peter said with a huff, and Remus jumped. He tossed the stack of pictures back in the trunk, but hesitated with the one of him and Sirius under the tree. He folded it in half and stuck it in his back pocket before he could think more about it. 

“Have at it," Remus said. Peter dumped a pile of clothes unceremoniously into the chest.  

__

 

It was dusk when the group was ready to move to the cabin. Harry was in a sling, snug against Lily’s chest, and James cradled Sirius’ body in his arms. It struck Remus again, for what seemed like the millionth time, that they were a family. And as much as he loved them, he felt on the outside. Sirius had broken out into a delirious sweat, that he could tell worried Lily and Marlene, but there wasn’t time to fret about that now. They had to move. 

Remus gripped the handle of one of the trunks, ready to apparate, and there was a slight scuffle behind him. When he turned to look, Gideon was grinning mischievously, and Fabian was rubbing the back of his thigh. When he caught Remus looking, he sidled up next to him and whispered in his ear, “Just a little longer, eh? Think you can hold out?” 

“Course,” Remus said, brushing him off with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Marlene metioned to Remus and Peter, who had been assigned to go on ahead, scout out the house, and start laying the first of the protective charms. They apparated on the spot, and dumped their trunks as soon as they landed in front of the little cabin. Peter went left, and Remus went right, waving their wands about, checking for existing hexes or charms that might threaten Lily and James and Harry. 

Peter went inside after a few minutes, and Remus did one final loop around the perimeter, just to be sure. There were a few weak points on Peter’s side, particularly next to a giant tree in the back of the house. Remus placed a few reinforcing wards on places that seemed vulnerable -- the cellar, the garden fence. 

“Pete, you missed a spot out there. Be careful, mate,” Remus said as he lugged his trunk inside the open front door.

“What?”

“It’s unlike you to have weak points in your wards,” Remus said. 

“You were checking my work?” 

Remus startled, surprised at Peter’s sharp tone. “No, I was checking both of our work. Nervous, that’s all.” 

Peter twirled his wand around in his fingers. “Sure, whatever.” After a beat, Remus let out a long breath. 

“You know what I mean, Wormtail? He’s coming after James and Lily now, _on purpose_ . Not just all of us that get in his way, but them _in particular_. We can’t make mistakes.” 

“Well, it’s not like you don’t make mistakes, too.” 

“Which is exactly why I checked the wards all around the house, including my own.” 

Peter leaned back against the kitchen counter and considered Remus. “You know, some people think there’s a spy in the Order.” He was clearly feigning nonchalance, picking at the dirt beneath his fingernails. 

“I’ve heard,” Remus said. 

“Some people think it’s you.” 

Remus’ stomach went cold. “I know.” He took a breath and went on, quietly, “You know it’s not me, right?” 

“Course,” Peter said. He didn’t look up from his hands. “I just wonder if you might keep it more under wraps, you know, like Sirius does.” 

“What are you talking about?”  

“Your… proclivities toward men. Don’t give people a reason to trust you any less than they already do, you know?” 

Remus felt both hot and cold at the same time. _Like Sirius does._


	15. A Reflective Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fabian and Remus talk about Feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AKA the one where it becomes clear that I like Fabian/Remus more than I intended).

Remus stayed and helped unpack once the others arrived. He avoided Peter, who was unpacking dishware in the kitchen. He didn’t think about what Peter said. Or he tried not to think about it, at least. When Remus _did_ think about it, there were at least three things to analyze. 

    1. Peter was an ignorant arse, and Remus _hated_ that Peter implied that he was less-than because he had romantic encounters with men. But Peter had always been an ignorant arse, and his intentions were never purely bad in Remus’ experience. So maybe he was truly trying to warn Remus, to protect him, and not speaking out of embarrassment or shame.
    2. People really did think Remus was the spy. Remus had always known this on some level, but now he had proof. This was an upside of Peter’s more arse-like qualities -- he was less likely than James to tell you something just because you wanted to hear it, or to tell a small lie to make you feel better. 
    3. __“Like Sirius does_.” _That’s what Peter had said, mid-sucker punch. Peter knew that Sirius was interested in blokes, on some level. Which begged additional questions. How did he know? Had Sirius told him? Had Sirius slept with or dated men? It seemed unlikely that Sirius told Peter, at least in so many words. Because James didn’t seem to know, or at least James didn’t think it was public enough knowledge to let something slip around Remus. 



 

But, Remus wasn’t thinking about what Peter said. 

“You okay, Remus?” Lily asked as he was trying to perform an enlargement charm on a shrunken bookshelf. “I’ve watched you try that charm 10 times.”

“I think it’s grown a couple of centimeters, at least.” 

“If you say so.” Lily smiled. “Let me try?” Remus passed her the bookshelf, she tapped it with her wand, and they both scooted back as it grew back to its regular size. Together, they lifted it upright and pushed it up against the wall. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” she touched his arm. “Are you okay?” 

Remus shrugged. “Just tired. I’m sure you are, too.” 

“I am,” she nodded. “Feels surreal. I can’t believe this is happening.” She slid down the wall into a seated position and pulled her knees into her chest. Remus joined her, and they both surveyed the room. Gideon and Fabian were arguing about whether a painting was hung straight, if one side or the other needed to be raised. James and Peter were cracking open a bottle of wine. Marlene and Dorcas were whispering furiously at each other in the corner. 

“Everything feels so normal, but not normal at all,” Lily whispered. 

Remus nodded. “I’m going to stay with Gid and Fab tonight,” he said. He looked down at his lap. “Will you -- you’ll update me? When it’s convenient?” 

“Of course.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. 

“And you’ll let me know if you need me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Anytime, I’ll be there.” 

“I know.” She squeezed again. “I think you better pop by soon, anyway. It will be good for Sirius to see you. And Harry needs time to get to know his Uncle Moony.” 

When James announced he was tired of unpacking and started offering around glasses of wine, Fabian caught Remus’ eye from across the room. Remus winked twice, and Fabian grinned, like Remus had presented him with the Christmas gift he had always wanted. 

Fabian immediately clutched his stomach theatrically and groaned, “I don’t feel so good. I think it’s time for me to head home.” 

Lily rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to make excuses. Get out of here,” she said.

Remus and Fabian donned their coats. Gideon announced loudly and obnoxiously that he would stay for a few drinks, and then maybe go out on the town after. 

“Don’t inconvenience yourself on my account, mate,” Remus muttered at him. 

“Nah, I love an opportunity to make Fab believe he’s indebted to me.” He picked up his glass of wine. “Plus, I might die tomorrow, so I might as well have a good time tonight.” 

Remus considered going upstairs to say look in on Sirius, but something stopped him. He tried to tell himself that he wanted to let Sirius sleep and rest, that he didn’t want to do anything to disturb him. But the more likely explanation was cowardice. Instead, he let Fabian wrap a strong arm around him and apparate them into Fabian’s flat. 

“What do you need, Remus? A cup of tea? A vat of scotch?” Fabian asked, guiding him toward the couch. “I might have some biscuits around here, or I suppose I could go and get some?” 

“Why are you suddenly acting like my mother?” Remus grumbled. 

“Because you haven’t said two words since we got to the new house, and I saw you smile one single time and I’ve never seen something so fake in my life, aside from Peter’s dragonskin boots.”  

“Just got a lot on my mind.” 

“Which is why I ask, do you want to get drunk, or do you want to talk?” 

“If I had known you were such a sensitive soul…” 

“Oh, shut it.” Fabian whacked a pillow at Remus, who pushed it back at him. They gently shoved at each other until Remus’ head was in Fabian’s lap. Remus forced himself to relax, and after a moment, Fabian threaded his fingers into Remus’ hair. “Now, what’s going on?” Fabian asked. 

“Peter’s a git.” 

“Are you just learning this?” 

Remus squeezed Fabian’s knee, and Fabian let out a shriek of laughter. “Alright, alright. I know you’re friends. I know he’s a good fellow.” 

“That’s right. He was just particularly… git-like today and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve really tried.” 

“What happened?” 

“Haven’t decided if I want to talk about it.” Remus paused. There were advantages to talking to Fabian about matters such as this; he wasn’t invested in the same way that James and Lily and Sirius (if he were available) were. He was also more likely to have had similar experiences. “You have to remember that Peter is one of my closest friends. I -- I’m not trying to act like he’s a horrible person. I think he’s a _good_ person who does some fucked up things.” 

Fabian scoffed. “Remus --” 

“Then I’m not having this conversation.” 

“Alright, you don’t want me to instantly demonize Pettigrew for whatever’s about to come out of your mouth.” 

“Right.” James would either defend Peter or beat him up -- or more likely, do both. But if Remus could get over this hump with Fabian, he could be a real confidant. Remus took a deep breath. “He recommended that I keep my abnormal sexuality under wraps, for my _safety_.” Fabian pulled Remus into his chest, and buried a hand in his curly hair. “But I didn’t feel like he was really concerned about my safety, you know? It felt more like… convenience.” 

Fabian didn’t say anything, so Remus elbowed him in the side. Fabian grunted, “You know what they say, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” 

Remus sighed. “‘Don’t give them more reasons to distrust you.’ That’s what he said, I think.” 

“Merlin,” Fabian breathed.  

Tears pricked at Remus’ eyes, so he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing. “It’s just been a long day, you know?” His voice cracked, betraying him. He felt Fabian let out a long exhale. "I need to sleep, and then it will be better." 

“I can’t even imagine, Remus,” Fabian said, gently massaging Remus’ scalp. 

“It’s not me, I’m not the spy, I swear.” Remus swallowed and sniffed, willing himself not to cry. 

“You don’t have to say that to me, Re. I know you’re not. I _know_ you’re not.” His voice was a low, soothing rumble. “Don’t kill me for saying this, but Pettigrew’s an ignorant bastard. At least, on this.” Remus focused on the strong fingers in his hair. 

“He’s such a… he can be…” Remus found control over his voice. _This_ was a scholarly argument, a thought experiment, no emotion required. “He’s _smart_ . I know he doesn’t act like it, but he is. I think he wants people to think he’s a bit of an idiot, and it helps give him an upper hand.” Fabian didn’t say anything, so Remus continued. “And he _knows_ people, he watches them.” That had been his role when they were in school, pulling pranks -- case the place, figure out the obstacles, people’s schedules, where the four of them should be, and at what time, for maximum effect. A rat was good at going undetected. “And he knows _me_. He knows how that would affect me. He acts like an idiot, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. I just -- I just don’t think he’s ever acted in malice toward me before.”  

“I’ve been thinking lately,” Fabian said thoughtfully. 

“Novel,” Remus quipped with a faint smile. This earned him a slightly sharper tug on his hair. 

“You know, when we were younger -- when I was in school -- I thought goodness was more … concrete. And I joined the Order because it was the right thing to do, that’s what good people did, and I wanted to be good. It was -- selfish, I think. I was trying to prove something to myself more than I was trying to _do good_ for this world, prevent catastrophe, and all that.” 

“You’re one of the best --” Remus interrupted. 

“I know,” Fabian laughed. “I know I do a good job. That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is… I know the Order is on the right side of history, I _know_ that. I _know_ we’re doing the right thing. What I’ve realized is, being in the Order doesn’t make you _good_. Even if you’re on the right side of history, you’re not automatically good.” 

Remus didn’t respond right away, he paid attention to the feeling of the hand in his hair, and the fingers that were drifting slowly up and down his arm. “I think _you’re_ good,” he said finally. 

“Thank you,” Fabian said. “I think you’re good, too.” He sighed. “I guess I said all that because I know Peter -- and other people, too. This applies to other people, too. Anyway, Peter -- I know he’s your friend. And I know he’s in the Order. But that doesn’t mean he can’t do things that _are_ bad, or that make you angry. It's like you said -- he does some fucked up things. He’s not beyond reproach.” Fabian squeezed Remus’ hand, and Remus squeezed back. “It’s okay to be angry at him for this. What he said, all of it -- that wasn’t okay. That wasn’t right. It’s okay to be angry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, back to something that sort of might look like a plot.


End file.
